


The Unexpected Bite of a Scorpion

by SpecialSmiley1315



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Family, Friendship, Gen, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-03-19 17:37:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13709364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpecialSmiley1315/pseuds/SpecialSmiley1315
Summary: After the Trials of Marmora, team Voltron gains new allies and a new unexpected roommate, you could say. A reserved, deadly, and cute ally that the team gets to know one by one. Fast friendships form in the midst of war, after all.





	1. Chapter 1

Wisps of dust swirl in the air, shards of broken asteroid littering the floor. Silence hangs in the aftermath of the discovery. Shiro can’t tear his gaze from Keith, the red paladin staring wide-eyed at the now larger blade in his grasp. The Marmorite’s words echo in the Red paladin’s head, caught on repeat.

_Galra blood runs through your veins._

Horror and shock twist Keith’s bruised features. His outstretched arm trembles in exhaustion, but he can’t seem to drop it back to his side. Those purple eyes stay glued to the Luxite blade, mouth caught in a frozen gasp.

_This can’t be happening. I can’t be one of them._

Thoughts of the team swarm his mind, anxiety curling its icy fingers around his lungs. All he sees is the moment the others find out. Looks of disgust and betrayal will stare back at him, casting him aside as an outsider, the enemy.

Something cracks inside the Red paladin, throat going tight. It figures that once he found people he liked, people who accepted him and cared about him, Keith would somehow screw it up and lose them all.

A reassuring weight settles on his uninjured shoulder, glassy eyes shooting to the owner. Shiro looks down at him, a soothing presence at his side as his fingers squeeze in support. There’s not a hint of fear in the Black paladin’s dark eyes. Only pure acceptance and pride radiate in his stare.

He flashes a tiny grin, helping ease the tension in Keith. No matter what, the rejection from the others will hurt. However, as long as Shiro still accepts him, then Keith can learn too.

Shiro turns to the Blade of Marmora, features hardening as he dons the look of a warrior.

They all wear their masks with the hoods up and blades drawn. Kolivan, the leader, steps forward, addressing them.

“We apologize for the hostility. You have earned our trust, Paladins of Voltron. It would be an honor to work alongside you in destroying Zarkon’s empire.”

The Black paladin nods tersely, Keith noting the tension in the man beside him. He understands the cold demeanor. With everything that has happened, Shiro doesn’t hesitate to deliver pain to those who hurt the ones close to him. Right now, like Keith, all he has is Voltron.

“The same is for us. We should regroup with the others. Princess Allura will want to meet with you and strategize a plan of attack,” Shiro explains, professional despite the barely concealed hostility.  

Kolivan bows his head, a clenched hand brought up to rest over his heart. “It would be an honor to meet with the Altean Princess.”

With that, they start back to the Red Lion.

 Keith limps his way back to the room where they had him change out of his Paladin armor. His hands shake when he locks the armor in place, wondering if he’s worthy to still be a paladin of Voltron. He pushes the thought from his mind, deciding to keep moving to prevent those thoughts from catching up. Aches hinder the Red paladin’s movement, leaving him slow in reuniting with Shiro.

“How are you holding up?” The Black paladin asks, voice low enough for Keith’s ears only.

“I’ll be fine,” he grumbles, meeting his friend’s gaze in reassurance.

Shiro nods, a hint of disbelief in his gaze. It means that there will be a talk later, one where Keith can’t brush off the concern.

For now, though, Shiro relents, a weight lifted from Keith. He catches the side-eyed look from the Black paladin, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Since that first meeting in the Garrison, they’ve had one another’s back. With what all happened, he’s glad that didn’t change.

Kolivan and two other Blades approach. They are familiar figures, the same Marmorites that met them when they landed on the asteroid. The two were also at Kolivan’s side during the Trials of Marmora, a constant presence around the leader.

To Kolivan’s right stands a Blade of equal height and build. If Keith recalls his name is Antok. Both men are broad-shouldered, their skin-tight suits accenting their muscled physiques. The differences, Kieth notes, are the tail and the design of his mask.

On Kolivan’s left, the other Blade member remains. Not nearly as large as the other two, they still stand at an impressive height, if Keith had to guess, of close to eight feet tall. The wide width of their shoulders contrasts with the lither figure. If Keith had to pick between Antok and this Blade, he’d pick them. He hasn’t forgotten the rough handling he was greeted with courtesy of the right-hand man.

Not to mention, something about the other Blade is different. Kolivan and Antok exude an aura of intimidation. The other, while still having that same air, gives off a more comforting vibe that doesn’t put Keith on edge.

The mask Kolivan wears disappears in a blur of colors, something Keith knows for certain Pidge would be drooling over. He pushes his hood off too, allowing them to see him fully.

A square jaw with tufts of purple-white fur around pointed ears and sideburns greets Keith. Red markings line the top of his head and across his upper eyebrows, contrasting with the trademark golden eyes of the Galra species. A long, white braid falls down his shoulder, similar to Viking warriors.

Like most Galra, Kolivan’s voice rumbles, gravelly and deep as he speaks. “I would like to bring my men along if you would not mind. They will be of great assistance when it comes to planning the attack.”

Keith glances at Shiro, watching him turn the idea over in his head.

“It won’t be a problem,” he agrees. “We’ll radio ahead once we’re in the Red Lion and inform the others that you are with us.”

“Thank you,” Kolivan states before tucking his braid around his neck and donning his hood and mask.

Unlike the ride into the deadly base, the Red Lion encounters no problems leaving the space between the two black holes.

In a few short dobashes, they arrive in Red’s hangar at the Castle of Lions. Red lands, head lowered and maw opening for their exit. Keith spots the rest of the team waiting in the hangar, and hesitation eats at the Red paladin once again.

Those doubts rise up, threatening to suffocate him. How does he face them? Will they hate him? The questions come at lightning speed making his heart thud at a breakneck pace.

But then Shiro’s hand rests back on his shoulder, somehow reading his mind. Soothing as always, he reassures. “Don’t worry. This doesn’t change anything, Keith.”

The sincerity brings a weak smile to the Red paladin’s lips. Keith manages a nod before they leave the cockpit with the three Blades tailing them.

Kolivan walks down between Shiro and Keith, the other two following behind. Keith watches as the other paladins grow tense, eyes narrowing in distrust. He swallows hard, deciding to stare at the floor for the rest of this meeting.

Allura stands tall in her pink paladin suit. Her white hair sits atop her head, bangs framing the pink Altean marks on her cheeks. Coran stands close by, calculating Kolivan as he steps forward. The mask disappears, Kolivan removing his hood before dropping to a knee, bowing before the Princess.

“Princess Allura, it is good to see that the rumors are true. You’re still alive after all these years,” he greets with a deep rumble that exudes an air of reverence.

However, the Princess’s voice holds a harshness, crystal blue eyes steely as she stares down at the Galra. “And so is Zarkon. Can we consider you our ally in the fight against him?”

“Yes,” Kolivan answers instantly, rising to his feet. “We have a spy in the Galra hierarchy. They are unaware of our presence for now and the timetable for our plan is still feasible.”

The sudden news shocks the others. For so long the paladins thought they were the only ones in this fight. It’s reassuring knowing that they have had allies the whole time.

Hope and fear dance in their wide eyes as Shiro questions. “How soon do we need to begin?”

“As soon as possible. It may only be a matter of time until our spy is discovered.”

“We will begin immediately, once I know what happened to my paladins on that base.”

Keith flinches in reflex at the venomous order spat by Allura. She cares about each member of Voltron a great deal. He wonders if she’ll still feel the same after learning the truth.

Antok comes forward. Unlike Kolivan, he doesn’t remove his mask or his hood. His deep, gravelly words echo in the large hangar, addressing Allura with the utmost respect.

“Princess, we requested your paladins come unarmed. However, the Red paladin had a blade, one that belonged to us.”

The team’s gaze falls to Keith who shrinks into himself, which stuns the other paladins. Sure, Keith is standoffish, but the boy radiates shame so powerful even Lance can’t help but fret over his friend.

Before the others can question the Blade of Marmora, Antok continues. “He claimed to have owned the blade for all of his days. He wished to know the meaning of it and entered the Trials of Marmora; a battle that results in knowledge or death.”

Allura’s fists clench tight, the hint of a snarl tugging at her diplomatic features. The rest of the paladins wear similar looks, a subtle air of hostility seeping between them all. Keith continues to stare at the bare floor, refusing to meet the other’s worried gazes. He wishes he could disappear. Maybe he takes Red and runs. But he knows, now that Red knows the truth, that running is not an option. She has no reason to accept him as her paladin.

A fierce growl pierces his thoughts, the Red lion protesting in anger, and denying the dark thoughts of her paladin. More shame eats at his gut. How many more people will he disappoint before the day is over?

“But Keith’s alive, or…um, unless that’s a hologram then…”

Hunk clamps his mouth shut when everyone turns a pointed look his way. A sheepish grin frames his lips, rubbing the back of his neck. Clearing his throat, the Yellow paladin tries voicing his anxious thoughts once more.

“Keith is alive so that means he learned something, right?”

Antok and Kolivan nod while the other Blade member continues to stand in rigid silence. In better circumstances, where shame and anxiety weren’t wearing the Red paladin down, he would analyze the silent Blade with scrutiny.

“He awoke the blade. The only way that is possible is if Galra blood runs through his veins,” Kolivan finishes, blunt in his explanation.

Struck silent by the sudden truth, the team stares with mixed expressions of shock. The quiet makes him nauseated. Keith squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to remember how to make his lungs work because at this moment breathing seems impossible.

_They hate me._

Hunk breaks the silence first, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. Did you just say Keith is Galra?”

“Part,” Kolivan corrects.

Rubbing his chin in thought, the Yellow paladin purses his lips. Keith cannot bear to watch the disgust on his face. His heart leaps into his throat in the single beat of silence. He’ll choke -- suffocate on the pounding organ lodged in his airway.

“Cool.”

Keith’s head snaps up, eyes locking on Hunk. He expected raging threats, screams of betrayal. Anything other than blind acceptance would make more sense to the Red paladin. How could they be okay with this?

“Dude, I totally knew it.” Lance brags, and Pidge snorts derisively, rolling her eyes.

“Sure, you did.”

He glares at the Green paladin. “I did! Come on! The guy has a mullet! Only an alien would think that hairstyle is acceptable in this day and age!”

Keith’s chest swells with relief, and a laugh almost slips loose. Even those dark thoughts fade away in the midst of the bickering. If Lance can joke about his hair, then they’re okay.

The paladins continue arguing among themselves, and Keith starts to relax. Then Allura’s sharp voice cuts through the hangar.

“Enough!” Her crystal blue eyes are sealed shut, breaths tight.

A knife twists into Keith’s stomach, his chin falling to his chest. He let his hopes get ahead of him.

Shiro steps forward to intervene. A twisted expression of emotions, too complicated to comprehend, paint his face, but before he can say anything, Allura straightens to her full height. Holding her chin high, she addresses team Voltron.  

 “This is not the time to be arguing,” she scolds with ice in her voice. Her gaze cuts to Kolivan, continuing. “You said that you wanted to help us. You’ve given me the answer I needed, now let’s plan.”

The three Blade members exchange looks before nodding their assent. Allura walks away without a word, leading the Galra to the bridge. The paladins hang behind, even Coran, watching the others leave.

Pidge pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, eyebrows knitted together. She opens her mouth to comment on the rudeness of the Princess, but Keith beats her to it.

“It’s fine.”

The Green paladin stares at the Red paladin in defiance, a storm brewing inside her. But Keith levels her with a desperate look that makes Pidge cringe on the inside.

“Give her time,” the orange mustached Altean requests, standing a little bit away from the paladins. His usual bright energy dulled with his hands clasped behind his back.

He locks eyes with Keith, sympathetic to the boy’s pain. The Red paladin drops the gaze, unable to witness the pity.

Coran frowns, sighing under his breath before leaving to allow the paladins a moment to themselves.

Shiro once again rests his hand on Keith’s shoulder as he stands beside him. He doesn’t say anything, and Keith is grateful. The last thing he wants to hear is hollow words.

Allura has every right to hate him. Half of who he is, more or less, belongs to a race that destroyed her everything. You don’t accept that without time, if you ever do.

“So, not to take away from the moment, but, ugh, can we talk about Keith’s emo twin?”

“What?” the paladin’s question, confused by Lance’s obvious change of subject.

“Um, hello? Did none of you notice the eight foot tall Galra acting all antisocial, trying to hide behind the other two? They’re like the tall version of a brooding Keith.”

Lance smirks in pride when the Red paladin glares at him. But it doesn’t hold the same heat when they usually argue. In all honesty, the teasing eases Keith. At least he knows his team doesn’t hate him.

_I hope._

Pidge kicks Lane in the shin; glare heated when he yelps in pain. “Make short people jokes, get hit.”

Lance rubs his leg, sticking his tongue out at the youngest paladin. Pidge mimics him, but before it can go on further, Shiro starts talking.

“Actually, now that I think of it, Antok and Kolivan have been the only ones doing the talking. I’m assuming, whoever they are, that they must be of importance if Kolivan brought them along.” Shiro muses, lost in thought.

Keith takes a moment, ignoring the pains of his body now that the worst of this day is over with. Looking around at the others, he notices a spark of intrigue dancing in all of their eyes. He doesn’t blame them either. There’s something mysterious about the Marmorite that draws you in like a weak man to a siren.

Shiro releases a heavy breath, staring off at the doors that lead into the castle. “I guess it’s time we figure it out for ourselves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! Thanks for reading the first chapter. I hope you liked it!
> 
> This story is going to focus on each member of Voltron and their interaction with this Blade member. Don't worry all will be revealed next chapter on who this individual is. This is my first fic for this fandom so please comment! Let me know if I'm butchering the characters. The main focus of this story is team bonding and sort of a character study, I guess? *shrugs*
> 
> Either way, I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> I'm going to try and post about once every week to every week and a half. My schedule right now is slammed so I can't guarantee anything. I have more chapters written and the rest of the story laid out, but it's not all complete. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are great! 
> 
> ~Be awesome~


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Voltron plans Zarkon's demise and Lance can't stop wondering about Keith's emo twin. He really needs a new name for them.

Three hours.

Three straight hours of tension, of Allura’s biting comments aimed at the Blade of Marmora. Shiro does most of the planning, questioning the ins and outs and supplying his own expertise. Hunk fell asleep not too long after the paladins changed into their armor. There was nothing for them to do after all, their leaders and the Blades taking full control of the plotting. When they did help, it was little things. Pidge helped with some coding and probabilities, and Lance kept the rising tension from turning into an all-out war, which maybe wasn’t so little of a job after all.

Really, it was him and Keith’s emo twin that managed to keep the discussion smooth. Lance’s comments diffused Allura’s temper, or at least redirected it, while the Marmorite would simply place a heavy hand on Kolivan’s shoulder or on the fierier Antok.

The Blue paladin wishes he knew their name. Calling them ‘Keith’s emo twin’ is annoying. Not to mention, it’s too long.

He glances over at a dejected Keith, mouth turning down in a faint frown. The Red paladin stands by the holo projection of Zarkon’s ship. His eyes are trained on the ground, despondent as the others talk. He’s alone, Shiro standing next to the Galra in between Allura and Coran.

It reminds Lance of a kicked puppy which turns his stomach. He’s barely looked up from the floor since he returned from the Blade of Marmora base. Bruises paint his creamy skin, worry putting the Blue paladin on edge. Antok said he did some sort of trial. It must have been a fight, a hell of one too, if Keith came out beat up like he is. Lance hopes that’s the extent of it, but fears it’s not. Keith is no better than Shiro when it comes to playing off their injuries.

“I think we’ve got something here,” the Black paladin comments with awe. “It’s dangerous and there are a lot of moving parts but if we can coordinate everything just right then-”

“Zarkon’s reign will be at an end and the savagery that has poisoned our universe will finally be cleansed.” Kolivan turns to Shiro, praising the man. “You’ve done it, Shiro.”

The Black paladin faces the alien, extending a hand. “We did it together.”

They lock arms, an understanding of trust in the gesture. If it wasn’t for the Blade of Marmora they wouldn’t know all the details of Zarkon’s inner workings. They wouldn’t have a spy who could tell them when and where to strike or have a chance to destroy the Galra Empire from the inside.

Which is the exact plan -- infect Zarkon’s ship with a virus that immobilizes the ship’s defenses. Then open up a wormhole and lower Zarkon inside of it to a place where Voltron has the upper hand to defeat him once and for all.

 It’s not going to be easy. They need to make a teladuve big enough to wormhole Zarkon’s ship, meaning they are going to need more scaultrite. That in and of itself is a battle since the amount they will need is beyond anything they can find at the Space Mall. But, that’s one of the many items they will need in order to pull this plan off without a hitch.

“As long as we all stick to the plan, it should work.” Allura’s jab destroys the temporary peace, creating another tense moment.

Lance groans under his breath. The Princess’ anger is not misplaced. He can understand her displeasure with the Blade of Marmora and their heritage, but they aren’t the Galra that work for Zarkon. These guys are different and Lance wishes she could see that.

“It will work,” Kolivan defends. “Perhaps, then you will learn that not all Galra are as bad as Zarkon.”

The Princess glances to her left, murmuring under her breath as her crystal blue gaze falls on the Red paladin. “I hope not.”

“Ulaz was right to trust you,” Antok adds.

The paladins nod in agreement, remembering what the Galra did for them. “He sacrificed everything for us. Let’s honor him by taking down Zarkon.”

“So, now I guess the question is when do we get started?” Pidge asks, still staring at the purple hologram of Zarkon’s ship.

Coran starts his explanation on how each resource will be acquired in answer to Pidge’s question.

The paladins cease to be amazed by the knowledge the Altean has. He’s basically the Google of space. He explains where they’ll need to obtain the scaultrite from and where the teladuve will need to be assembled.  Lance listens in fascination, a small smile tugging at his lips. Coran always singles him out for Castle cleaning duties, and as much as he hates it, he enjoys spending the time with the Altean man and hearing some of the stories behind this abundance of knowledge.

“I would like to aide your team as much as possible. If you would allow, I’d like to leave Roan with you all.” Kolivan offers, Lance’s ears perking up at the name.

_Finally!_

A disgruntled noise comes from the silent Galra behind Antok and Kolivan. The leader turns to address the noise when Allura’s displeasure rings loud and clear on the bridge.

“Absolutely not! How are we certain this is not some trap for you to hand deliver us to Zarkon?!”

Shiro steps to the Princess to ease her worries when a chuckle catches them off guard. Kolivan shoots the silent Galra, Roan, a stern look. Her face remains covered by the Marmora mask, but Lance imagines the apologetic yet amused expression the Blade would wear.

“Princess Allura, if we are to work together then you must learn to trust us. This is not an elaborate plan to deceive you or your team. Roan is a skilled fighter, who can help train your paladins in combat. Not to mention, if anyone can earn your faith, it is Roan.”

“Allura, Kolivan has a point. I’ve seen them fight. They are some of the best fighters I’ve laid my eyes on. It couldn’t hurt.” Shiro defends, hoping to sway the Altean.

Lance, however, has his own reasons for letting the alien stay aboard the castle ship. He would also be lying if he didn’t want the Galra to stay for his own curiosity, and he’s certain his team feels the same. Kolivan speaks so highly of Roan that he can’t help but wonder who they are. Not to mention, a new face would be nice.

The team is great company. There’s Hunk, his best buddy, Shiro who is his longtime idol, Pidge who reminds him of his sisters back home, and Keith, who is an endless source of irritation and amusement. Allura and Coran are great too, but there are only so many conversations you can have with the same six people before you start to crave new insights.

“We’re going to need the manpower too when it comes to getting everything for the teladuve. Having another set of hands wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Hunk adds, pulled from his nap earlier once the plan was finished.

“Plus, I can use help decoding the Galra language. It would make going through their communications lines easier.”

Lance sets his attention on Allura, seeing Pidge’s explanation backing the Princess into a metaphorical corner.  An opportunity like this cannot be passed up.

Allura crosses her arms, lips pursed as she listens to her paladins voice their opinions.  She debates in silence, a slight wrinkle to her upturned nose. A grudging breath leaves her and she relents with a curt assent.

Kolivan nods in gratitude. “We will stay in contact and update you on any news from our spy. Roan will know the best way to communicate.”

A disgruntled huff leaves Roan, drawing an amused grin to the leader. He lays a large hand on their shoulder. “We entrust that you will show the true image of the Galra that has been forgotten.”

“Wow, that’s a heavy duty to put on one individual,” Lance murmurs, Hunk humming in agreement.

Roan locks arms with Kolivan before pulling him into a hug. No words are spoken and Lance wonders if perhaps they are mute. The most they have heard are grunts and that one small laugh.

He racks his brain wondering if he can remember any sign language from his childhood days. His siblings thought it would be fun to learn bad words so that they could get away with using them in front of their parents without getting in trouble. He doubts it would work out here in space since language isn’t universal. Not to mention, they may not even use sign language. The Galra is a very advanced species. Maybe they figured out some other way to communicate?

Antok reciprocates the gesture before the paladins and Allura and Coran walk the Blade of Marmora back to the hangar. One of their ships enters the Castle of Lions to collect Kolivan and Antok. The scene pains Lance, leaving him with a brick in his gut and longing burning in his chest. Roan’s shoulders slump once the ship disappears.

The others try not to stare, looking anywhere but at the Blade to give them some personal time to grieve. Less than thirty seconds, though, and a long sigh leaves alien before they straighten, pulling their shoulders back, and turn to face the paladins.

Excitement bubbles in their bellies as the mask falls and Roan removes their hood. Lance’s eyes go wide, jaw dropping before he shrieks.

“WHAT?!”

Roan is Galra, but not any run of the mill Galra. No, Roan is a _woman._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Now you know our mystery Galra friend! Things will start to pick up in the next chapters now that we know who our ally is. I haven't seen any female Galra in the show except for the more recent seasons with Lotor's generals. So, I wanted to write one :) You'll get to see more of who she is next chapter. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are great! See you next week for a new chapter! 
> 
> ~Be Awesome~


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Voltron takes care of one of their own and Hunk reaches out to a new friend.

None of them will admit it. Hunk might, but the rest of Voltron will go to their grave before admitting that they are just as shocked as the Blue paladin.

Lance’s mouth hangs open, gaping at the Blade. He tries for words, but what do you say?

_“Sorry, for freaking out. But, I’ve never seen a female Galra and my mind is blown.”_

Lance blushes hard, face and neck flushed a deep red when he realizes Roan’s stare on him. Her quizzical golden eyes hold an intensity to them that makes the Blue paladin sweat. Thankfully, there’s no anger in the look as he manages to close his mouth and grin sheepishly.

Her skin tone borders on a lilac color leaning more on the lavender side. Tufts of fur cover pointy cat-like ears that sit off center on top of her head, and Lance vibrates with a squeal when he notices them twitch. Similar to Kolivan, a stark red mark covers the bridge of her round nose. Soft white hair cascades down her back, done up in an intricate half up-half down style. Complicated braids woven together with detailed expertise make up the top half of her hairstyle.  The paladins can’t help but compare the Marmorite to historical warriors who would wear braids for battle.

Noting the puzzled look of the Galra, Shiro steps forward, breaking the stunned silence. “Sorry about that. It’s just…Well, we haven’t seen any female Galra fighters before.”

Roan nods, and the Paladins continue to stare wondering if she will say anything. Maybe explain why the Galra empire’s army is so male-dominated?

When the silence drags on, they give up. Shiro doesn’t know how to proceed, Hunk notes. He looks behind him hoping to find Allura but the Princess is nowhere to be seen. She must have left right after Kolivan and Antok parted.

“The Red paladin should be put in a healing chamber. I know how my brothers and sisters fight, and your species is much more fragile than ours.”

The paladins blink in shock at Roan’s words. The first time she speaks and she’s concerned about the well-being of one of their own. The others spare a glance at Keith, noting his wide-eyed look. They also note the way his arm tightens around his chest and the pained wince with every breath. Shiro nods before wrapping an arm around the boy’s waist.

“We should have done this as soon as we came back.”

Keith shakes his head. “Planning was more important,” he gasps, the pain becoming overwhelming now that he focuses on it.

The others follow behind Shiro and Keith, worry etched into their youthful features. It doesn’t look too serious, but each of them becomes uneasy when the other is hurt. In the time they’ve been out here in space, they’ve become a family. They depend on one another physically, mentally, and emotionally. Together, they’re bonded by their connection of Voltron and something deeper — something that science can’t explain.

Coran meets them in the med bay once they get Keith changed into the healing pod suit. He grumbles the whole way, complaining that it’s not that bad. Nobody buys the excuses. The Red paladin is pale, his chest littered with dark blooming contusions. Not to mention the cut across his shoulder that weeps red. Wearing the Marmora suit protected him from the worse of the damage, overall leaving a slice not too deep.

Coran decides it doesn’t warrant stitches and proceeds with a biometric scan, determining that he also has a few contused ribs. It will be a short stint in the pod, a maximum of thirty dobashes. If Coran believes the pods are the best course of action, then the paladins agree. They trust his judgment, plus Keith won’t argue. He hates being injured. The faster he is back on his feet the better.

Once Keith is settled, the paladins hang around the med bay. Typically, they all take shifts until the time is up, that way someone is always there when whoever wakes. It’s disorientating coming out of the pods. Thoughts are foggy, a chill burying deep in your bones even hours after being released, and your legs lose all function. Which is why having someone there matters. That way you don’t fall flat on your face after an extra freezing nap like Lance.

He still holds that against the others.

“Well, I’m going to head to the kitchen and scrounge up some kind of snack for when Keith gets out,” Hunk comments after two minutes of silence.

Shiro stands by the healing pod, eyes glued to the holo-projection of Keith’s vitals. Pidge miraculously has her laptop with her and types away at the keypad. Lance lies on the floor, legs cycling in the air as he hums a random tune.

“That’d be great, Hunk.” Shiro thanks, mind preoccupied with other thoughts.

Hunk nods, thinking of the universal side effect the healing pods have on them. Any time spent in the pods always results in side effects of hunger. The Yellow paladin wonders if because the body undergoes accelerated healing, the cells are starved for energy after that kind of strain. To be honest, the whole concept of the healing pods is a mystery to Hunk and the rest of the team.

The Yellow paladin leaves the med bay, trekking the castle halls with the same familiarity of his home on Earth. A pang of homesickness strikes hard, drawing Hunk’s thick brows together. Sighing heavily, he hurries to the kitchen.

Cooking has always been a connection to home, especially baking. Even at the Garrison, Hunk would treat Lance and Pidge to several homemade meals and sweet treats. It was never painful. On the contrary, it was the exact opposite. Immersing himself in something familiar gave him comfort and soothed the ache that bloomed in his chest. Hunk got carried away in the flavor profiles, the creativity of assembling new exotic dishes. Similar to the puzzles he finds as an engineer. For the Yellow paladin, he finds that his first love was cooking and his second engineering.

In the castle’s kitchen, Hunk prepares various fruits gathered from a planet market that the Castle visited a few weeks ago. They’re bright neon colors, some striped and others polka dotted. He struggled to figure out how to open a few of them, their skins so thick he considered using a mechanical saw to crack the damn things open. After scanning them to make sure they weren’t poisonous (he’s had a few close calls thanks to Coran’s early interventions), Hunk labeled them for the other paladins. Based on similarities to things they ate on earth, he labeled the food correspondingly. The striped neon yellow and forest green fruit taste like carrots and oranges. Another has a blended flavor of plums and raspberries.

During the past weeks, to get a break from the green food goo, Hunk has been adding them to the menu. There’s only so much of one thing you can eat before you become sick of it. Not that they really have a choice when they are stuck in space.

No longer occupied by cooking, Hunk sets out again to the med bay. He heads down the hall that connects to the main thoroughfare of the castle and also holds the rec room. Pausing, he notices a figure standing in the doorway to the common room.

Roan stands outside of the entrance. She seems indifferent as she undoubtedly takes in the place. Hunk wonders if the Blade of Marmora base has a place for their soldiers to relax. They have to, right? Even alien secret society’s need a break once in a while.

Without hesitation, the Yellow paladin approaches with a warm greeting. “Hey, sorry about earlier. We sort of get one track minded when any of us is injured.”

After reaching the med bay, Hunk belatedly remembered that they had a Galra ally on board the castle and had abandoned them.

There’s not much of a reaction from Roan, something he noted earlier. She can speak. It seems, though, that she prefers silent gestures over words. Proving his point, Roan nods -- a sympathetic understanding in her golden eyes.

“I’m on my way to the med bay to leave some food for Keith. The healing pods always make us hungry after. But if you would like, I can show you around the castle when I’m done?”

Pondering the question a moment, Roan nods, bringing a bright smile to the paladin’s face.

“Cool. Why don’t you follow me now and I’ll knock out a few places on the way?”

She doesn’t protest to his suggestion, only steps away from the rec room to follow.

Words spill from Hunk as they walk. The way the conversation flows with ease reminds him of talking to Lance. Albeit this talk is a one-sided conversation, but with Roan’s silence, it doesn’t feel like he’s talking out loud to himself. She engages him differently — tilting her head as a sign to explain more or a smiling a ghost of a smile will when he mentions an anecdote of the team’s first few weeks adjusting to the castle.

It takes Roan stopping and pointing at the bowl in his hands for him to remember his initial plans. He groans, realizing he took a wrong turn, too caught up in his touring. They head back the way they came, Hunk still explaining where everything is as he goes, although he’s a little less detailed this time around.

When he finally arrives back at the med bay, the cryopod had released Keith, and he already changed back to his gray t-shirt and jeans compared to the white healing suit.

“There you are, buddy! I thought you got lost along the way!” Lance teases, making the Yellow paladin rub the back of his neck.

“Yeah, sorry, I ran into Roan on the way back and was giving her a tour and took a wrong turn.” He hands the fruit bowl to a thankful Keith, who with a content grin eats the snack immediately.

“Is she still with you?” Shiro asks.

Hunk’s forehead scrunches in puzzlement, turning to the doors.

“She was right behind me,” he mutters seeing that the Mamortie is not in the room. He checks outside the door and finds the halls to be empty. Scratching his head he hums. “That’s weird.”

“Did she ditch you?”

“I guess,” Hunk answers for Pidge, trying to wrap his head around it. Why would she ditch him? She was enjoying the tour if Hunk is right. Did she not want to come to the med bay? Or maybe she needed a bathroom? He could understand that, after all when duty calls…

“That’s rude,” Lance chirps, lips turned down in a frown as he crosses his arms.

“I don’t think she was trying to be,” Hunk defends.

“I agree with Hunk.” The others look to Shiro, their leader looking pensive as he stares at the closed doors. “If I had to guess, I think she wanted to give us some privacy.”

Hunk agrees. Although he knows little about the Blade member, he doubts that she abandoned him without a reason. From what he has witnessed Roan enjoys being in the background. The way she stood behind Kolivan and Antok and let them do all the talking. Not to mention, turning the whole team’s attention to Keith to take the heat off her. He would almost say the Galra is shy. She prefers the shadows over the spotlight. Being in a room full of strangers who will interrogate you isn’t the ideal situation.

But, there’s something more bothering the Yellow paladin as he ponders on the subject longer.

“I just feel bad,” Hunk admits, garnering the attention of the team.

“Why?” Keith mumbles around a bite of red and white fruit. Lance makes a disgusted face, a complaint on the tip of his tongue.

“Think about it, she was left behind. She doesn’t have anyone here. Like we all have each other. Allura has Coran. Roan doesn’t have any Galra.”

Keith can feel everyone’s eyes on him, or one set in particular, and he rolls his own, protesting. “I’m part Galra, Lance!”

The Blue paladin holds his hands up in defense. “Hey, that means she’s not completely alone.”

“We’ll have to be as welcoming as possible then. The Blade of Marmora is our ally. Making a strong connection with Roan will only make our partnership stronger.” Shiro reassures eyebrows pulled together in thought. 

The others nod in agreement to the Black paladin’s words, each aware of the help the Blade has been to them. Ulaz was the first that gave them aide. Now, they have Kolivan and Roan, and the entire Blade of Marmora supporting them. It’s because of them they are so close to defeating Zarkon now. Without them, they’d still be lost in this formidable war. Strengthening this alliance is vital to their victory.

Plus, nobody will complain when it means they get a chance to know more about this intriguing newcomer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey readers! 
> 
> New chapter yay! I love Hunk and had a lot of fun writing this. Hopefully, this seems within canon for him along with the rest of the team. Comments and kudos are wonderful and you're all great for reading this. 
> 
> Thanks and see you sometime soon! 
> 
> ~Be awesome~


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk can't stop thinking about Roan and how alone she is. Turns out lonely people gravitate towards lonely people.

It shouldn’t bother Hunk that bad, right? He doesn’t know Roan, so he shouldn’t assume that she’s lonely. Except as he leaves the med bay with the other paladins, his brain won’t stop thinking about how alone the Blade must be. 

Team Voltron goes their separate ways — Pidge off to do more decoding or tinker with Green’s cloaking. Lance will wash Blue or take a swim in the Castle pool. Allura explained how to invert the pool finally, and since then Lance basically lives there.

Hunk’s glad his best friend got a piece of home back. He knows how hard it is for the Blue paladin to be away from his family. Even at the Garrison, Lance was homesick, which could be cured with a phone call home or a visit during a break. Now, well, his friend struggles. 

Keith and Shiro leave together, shoulder to shoulder as they talk in hushed voices. Hunk imagines the two will discuss what went down at the base of the Blade of Marmora. The Yellow paladin doesn’t take the privacy personally. Everyone knows that Keith and Shiro have a history together. They’ve known each other for a long time and they trust each other without a doubt. So, Hunk understands. Learning that you’re part alien can’t be easy to come to terms with, and despite all they’ve been through so far, Keith still has some walls up around them.  

Unlike the others, though, Hunk doesn’t have anything to occupy his time. Not to mention that his thoughts are focused on a particular person.

He can’t stop thinking that if he was the only human out here, how incredibly alone he would be -- no one to understand his need for chocolate or the warm sun on his skin with a blue sky or just being human. It scares him, the fear from the first couple of weeks after being launched into space by the Blue lion coming to the forefront of his mind.

Terror plagued his dreams for nights, petrified that he would lose the other paladins and be the last one. As the team grew stronger and closer, the nightmares faded. Every once and awhile, though, after a bad fight, in particular, those dreams will haunt his sleep, twisting his anxious thoughts into fake realities that have him waking up in tears.

Hunk makes his way to the kitchen, lost in his thoughts. Similar to cooking, being in the kitchen soothes Hunk’s anxieties. It’s another piece of home he gets to experience. His home in Hawaii was nothing big -- two bedrooms, one for his mom and one for him, and a bathroom he outgrew in middle school. He hit his growth spurt early and learned the struggle of a world made for average people. Hunk was not average height and the shower head in his bathroom agreed. There wasn’t much space after that except the kitchen. It was their living room, his study area, and it was where his fondest memories were made. So being in the kitchen brings him back to those days.

 Settling in the table nook, he rests his chin in his hands. Closing his eyes, he can almost hear his mom’s voice, raucous laughter filling the room as she retells a story from her day.

The whoosh of the doors sounds and Hunk opens his eyes expecting Lance. Usually, after swimming, the Blue paladin stops by the kitchen for a water pouch and to reminisce about the ocean. Except for today, it’s not Lance.

Roan enters the room, looking around in puzzlement before fixing her gaze on him. She tilts her head, fluffy eyebrows scrunched together. He doesn’t understand what has her confused, but he greets her with a bright smile.

 “Hey! I didn’t get to finish my tour with you…cos’, well, you sort of disappeared.”

To his surprise, Roan gestures to the seat across from him. He nods and she sits. In the small space, her large frame takes up a lot of room, bringing a fond smile to the paladin’s lips.

“I meant no disrespect to you, Yellow paladin. I assumed your team would be more comfortable without my presence,” she explains, catching Hunk off guard again.

He’s not used to hearing her speak. It’s a shame too, he thinks. Her dulcet voice is pleasant to the ears, similar Shiro when he checks in after a hard mission. Despite the formality, he finds her speech soothing.

“You can call me, Hunk,” he offers before reassuring the Marmorite. “I’m not offended, but next time you can tell me that. You don’t have to sneak away.”

“’Sneak away?’” she questions, tilting her head again. Hunk finds the gesture adorable, biting back his comment.

“I turned around and you were gone. I didn’t realize until I was in the med bay with the others that you weren’t there.”

“I did not believe that you would have feelings if I were to leave unannounced.”

“Of course, I would!” Hunk objects. “I still have so much to show you! We only did like…a quarter of this place.”

Roan doesn’t react, features stone, except to say, “Would you like to continue?”

“Really?”

The paladin did not expect Roan to want to finish the tour. He was ready to pull out all the stops, even bribe her into letting him cook a meal for her. Luckily, it turned out to be simpler than that.

She nods, and a wide grin takes over Hunk’s face before he leads them out of the kitchen, taking a different direction than last time. As he explains what each useful room is and where the paladins can typically be found, he keeps checking to ensure Roan hasn’t disappeared.  Every glance he makes, she is there.

 Like on their initial tour, he finds her silence easy. Even when they reach a stretch of the hall that Hunk has nothing to say the quiet between them isn’t strained. It’s comfortable like they’ve known each other for years instead of hours. In honest, it reminds him of Lance.

For as long as Hunk has known Lance, he knows that the boy enjoys the silence as much as he enjoys the noise. Most of the time when Lance talks, he’s trying to keep other’s minds preoccupied. He doesn’t like seeing others upset. So, he’ll talk about everything and anything until the mood in the room changes or he sees the person relax.

Having that sort of connection with Roan hours after they met, reminds Hunk that no matter what you see on the outside, what is on the inside is what makes a person.

An hour passes before Hunk has given the full tour of the Castle of Lions. They end up back at the kitchen and checking the Altean clock, Hunk realizes that the others will be expecting dinner soon.

He assembles some food goo and pulls out the fruit, preparing his supplies. Roan watches from her spot at the counter, analyzing each item he pulls out and puts together.

“What do the Galra typically eat?” Hunk asks after a brief silence.

He starts slicing a vegetable called Banaleche. The outside skin is a fuzzy, cyan blue similar to a kiwi. Except that the inside color is black and the texture shares that of a potato, which resembles the taste of radishes instead of a potato, and nobody wants radish tasting fries. 

“Similar items,” she answers. “Although, I am not certain I would eat the green food there.” Roan’s face twists in disgust looking at the mushy contents, and Hunk can’t blame her. The first time he ate food goo, he didn’t know what to think. But, it grows on you.

“It’s not so bad,” he tries in defense, yet the dubious look he receives halt his efforts.

“What do you eat on Earth?”

“Anything, really. There’s meat, dairy, fruits, and vegetables. Where I’m from, there’s this dish called poke. It’s basically a raw fish salad but it’s amazing. When I went to school at the Garrison, I couldn’t find anywhere that made it like the places back at home. So, I got some recipes from my Mom and started making it at the Garrison. Lance was the only one who liked it. Pidge wouldn’t even try it because it had raw fish.”

Roan’s eyebrows draw together, this time the red on her nose all scrunched. “Raw is used to define something as unclean. I can understand her reluctance.”

“There’s a risk no matter what you eat back home unless it’s been burnt to a crisp. You have to know what you’re doing.”

He tried to explain that to Pidge, but the Green paladin was vehement.

Roan hums in acknowledgment. The silence of the kitchen filled with sounds of slicing and the occasional clatter of utensils as Hunk mixes some spices with the food goo and plant life. He’s close to being done when Roan speaks.

“What is your home like?”

Caught off guard since Roan does not initiate the conversation, Hunk falters. It’s also a touchy subject. Years have passed since he’s last seen Hawaii. He misses the lush green forests and the clear ocean waters. Always impressed with his memory, he can still taste the salt of the sea and feel the grainy texture of the warm sand between his toes.

“Home was in the middle of the ocean on volcanic islands. It was beautiful, though. I haven’t found anything out here in space to compare it to yet.”

“What are ‘volcanic islands’?”

“Uh, they’re mountains that have these giant holes at their center. In the middle are molten rock and hot gases. Basically, the island was formed by that molten lava in the ocean. There’s several in Hawaii, but three of them are active.”

Roan’s golden eyes go wide and it’s cuter than it is comical. Even her cat-like ears twitch. “You humans live in environments like that? How long have your species survived?”

Hunk shrugs. “That’s just our planet. I think it’s something like six million years, but those were our ancestors. Homo sapiens have been around 200,000 years. Not sure what that is in space-time, though,” he explains, lost in thought as he tries to figure out how many years would count as a decapheeb.

“No wonder why you five are the paladins of Voltron. Perhaps, I was wrong to think you were fragile.”

The Yellow paladin chuckles despite himself. “Oh, no, we’re fragile. We just adapt really well.”

Roan nods, a fierce look overcoming the alien. “That is good. You will need those skills in order to defeat Zarkon.” Gone is that sweet tone, Roan’s voice rumbling like fierce thunder.

Hunk can’t help but stare, fear slithering down his spine because he just got a glimpse at the warrior they’ve been fighting, and he’s so glad she’s on their side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read this story so far. It's definitely slow, but the next chapter will start to pick up in pace. Again, this story doesn't have a big plot. Most of this is a character study on the paladins. I hope I did Hunk justice. This won't be the end of him, though. There will be more Roan and Hunk interactions later on. So, I hope you liked the budding friendship between the two. 
> 
> Constructive criticism is always welcomed. Let me know if I'm butchering these characters or what you think about Roan. Comments and Kudos feed the starving writer soul. 
> 
> ~Be awesome~


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith gets lost in his thoughts. Shiro wants the paladins to train with Roan.   
> She can't be that good, right?

Keith won’t admit it. He won’t because that implies he doesn’t trust his team. And Keith _does_ trust them.

Growing up, there was no one to rely on. He had himself and the knife his father gave him. Then the Garrison accepted him and his sole focus was to succeed, to escape from a world where he was all alone.

Shiro changed that. Took him under his wing, helped guide him and hone his skills, worked on his issue with authority. It wasn’t so much an issue as much as it was Keith knowing his way worked and theirs didn’t. He was impulsive but he trusted his instincts. They never failed him and they wouldn’t in the Garrison. So, he ignored the Commanders and did his thing until Shiro stumbled into his life and taught him that “patience yields focus.”

Now, it’s not only Shiro he trusts but a whole team; Pidge, Hunk, Lance, Allura, Coran. There’re no doubts when it comes to them. They’ll have his back. But those bitter, dark thoughts, the ones that haunted his young abandoned mind, they keep whispering that it’s all lies, they’ll never trust him because he’s the enemy.

An inaudible breath escapes him, hugging himself tighter as he sits in his seat on the bridge with the others. Everyone’s at their station, Allura doing the morning briefing. She still won’t look at him and it stings more than Keith thought. The Princess discusses the different resources they will need for their plan against Zarkon. A lot of it is work only Coran and Allura can do since all their resources are written in Altean. Pidge hasn’t quite mastered a translation program for the Altean language yet. Until then, there’s not much the paladins can do to help.

Keith glances around the room, catching Hunk dozing in his seat, shaking his head to stay awake. Lance stares out into space, but Keith knows he’s listening to every word Allura says. Pidge’s fingers fly over her hologram keyboard, the screen’s lights reflecting off her wide circular lens. Shiro, on the other hand, stands with his back leaned against the seat. His forehead creased in concentration, Keith notes the dark bags under his eyes.

The two talked yesterday and it helped. Shiro admitted how terrified he was during the trials but also how proud he was. It dulled some of the anxiety swirling in his gut.

Now, though, Keith can’t help the guilt striking his chest. Shiro didn’t sleep well because of him because he was stubborn and knew he could handle those trials. What he didn’t consider was the effect that would have on Shiro or the others. He didn’t stop to think of the all the possibilities that came with that decision. What if he had died? What would the team have done? How would Shiro ever move on? He would blame himself, drown in the guilt and lose himself.

Keith doesn’t understand how after all of that, Shiro can still look him in the eye and tell him that he wants Keith to lead Voltron if anything were to happen to him. He was serious when he thought the Black paladin has said that out of some pain induced delusion. The fact that Shiro means it terrifies Keith in a way he never thought because if Shiro thinks like that then he doesn’t expect to make it back to Earth.

The red paladin brushes his troublesome thoughts away when the Black paladin straightens. Allura finishes her briefing, giving the floor to Shiro.

“All right, team. We have training today. I want you to suit up and meet in the training room. Roan, I’d like your expertise, if you wouldn’t mind joining us.”

All eyes turn to the Galra who stands at the back wall of the bridge, closest to the door. Her arms are crossed over her chest with a blank look as she nods her assent.

Shiro grins, eagerness shining in the curve of his lips. He mentioned his impress with the Blade of Marmora skills. Keith can’t deny their skill nor his own excitement. Still, it’s clouded with unease, knowing that he fights similar to them. Could his natural skill come from his Galra heritage?

Allura grimaces, glaring hard at Roan. Keith glances at the others, checking their reactions. All he finds is intrigue and indifference. The other Paladins rise from their stations and leave the bridge to suit up as ordered. However, Keith lags behind when Shiro stops to speak with the Princess. He keeps his gaze lowered, not wanting to see Allura’s disgusted look. She hasn’t looked his way since the news broke, so he’s not sure how she looks at him. Though, he doesn’t have to because he knows how she sees him. 

Less than a minute later, Shiro’s hand lands on his shoulder, looking down at him with a tender smile. Keith doesn’t miss the slight concern that laces his words as he asks, “Are you okay with this after what happened with the Trials?”

Without having to think about it, Keith nods. It’s not the fighting that has his mind twisted with these vicious thoughts.

 “All right then. Let’s go see what we’re up against.”

* * *

 

To say the Paladins had a chance was a blatant lie. Shiro was right when he said that they could learn a lot from Roan. She’s quick, ready to block every attack they came at her with. Rarely was the Galra on the offensive.

She waited, dodging, baiting the Paladins until they wore themselves thin. That’s when she would strike; fierce and unrelenting. Her defense was airtight, her offense a force to be reckoned with.

Each of them fought her one on one. Every time it ended with a Paladin in a position that would mean death if this was a real battle.

Shiro has lasted the longest so far.

For the first half of the fight, the Black paladin thought he had a chance, which is until Roan adapted. Her fighting style changed in the middle of the fight. She stopped using defense and launched into a brutal counterattack.

The grating of her blade against his prosthetic arm rang loud in the training room, jarring with each hit. Shiro could barely keep up his own defense, taking a few painful blows to the ribs and stomach. He sought out weaknesses, a chance to put him back on the offensive, but he didn’t find one in time. Roan had his arm bent behind his back, kicking the back of a leg to drop him to one knee with her luxite blade grazing the thumping artery in his neck.

She released him and exhaustion swept over the paladin. He felt as though he had fought for hours instead of seven minutes.

“You’re well trained in the art of combat, Black Paladin. Yet, you could have ended this battle within the first few minutes.”

Shiro’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, the white forelock of hair damp as he pulls his helmet off. He’s still not quite used to hearing the Galra speak so many words in one go. Her observation, though, shocks him.

“What do you mean?” He asks, the other paladins listening too. They watched that fight with close eyes. None of them saw a chance for Shiro to gain the upper hand.

Roan sheaths her blade behind her back without looking, impressing the team. “You are too soft. Mercy is not tolerated when fighting the Galra. When you fight, you must fight as though it is for your life.”

A crease makes its way between his eyebrows, mouth twisting in a frown. Keith notes the uneasy expression, a telltale sign of Shiro’s current mindset. He starts forward, stopping when the Galra tilts her head to the side, eyeing the Black paladin. Something in her expression makes him pause. It’s calculating — dissecting Shiro’s body language and interpreting it in a way that would make Keith squirm if he was under the scrutiny. Shiro, on the other hand, seems to be lost in thought.

“Black paladin, my apologies in advance if I overstep any boundaries, but if I may, you wear the face of the ‘haunted warrior.’”

“’Haunted warrior?’” Lance asks, curious at the word choice.

Roan nods. “A warrior tormented by the ghosts on the battlefield.”

Silence overcomes the paladins, understanding what the Blade member explained. It’s not hard to know that she is talking about PTSD — Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Even if it’s not the earth definition, it doesn’t take rocket science to use critical thinking and connect the dots.

Shiro clears his throat, uncomfortable. Talking about his trauma is not something that he prefers to do in front of the others. He would much rather keep it all to himself, but that’s not possible when you are the leader of the greatest weapon of the universe. Stealing a glance at the others, he catches Keith’s concerned gaze. A subtle nod eases the tension in the Red paladin’s shoulders.

Keith is the only one that he talks to about his time as a prisoner. When new memories come or the nightmares get out of hand, Keith is there to help remind Shiro that he’s safe. He grounds him to reality. Problem is that Shiro hates putting that responsibility on Keith. So, more often than not, he hides it the best he can.

Right now, having his past exposed like so in front of the others has his skin crawling with anxiety. He’s their leader. He can’t show weakness. He needs to be strong for them -- the unmoving rock that they can lean on.

Roan continues staring at him intently, adding to his discomfort. Her gaze is fierce without being intimidating. It’s strange. He doesn’t feel inferior, however, it’s as though he has been stripped bare, his soul and mind laid out for her to pick through. Unsettling would be the best description except he’s missing that gut instinct to fight.

The glide of her Luxite blade being freed disturbs the awkward silence. She points the blade at Shiro, her voice commanding yet tender.

“When you fight me again, I expect you to fight as though you are seeking revenge on all that have done wrong unto you.”

Shiro grimaces, nodding nonetheless. He doesn’t want to explain that he hates fighting like that. Hates how the crazed adrenaline courses through his veins, narrows his thoughts to one coherent thought — don’t die.

Fighting without mercy…it’s too similar to the Galra arena fights. He had no choice in those battles. It was kill or be killed. His choice to be merciful was stripped from him by the crowd and the Galra generals. He doesn’t want to give up that right now as a Voltron paladin, even if it means winning this war. Shiro won’t let them take any more of him than they already have.

Awkwardness settles in; the team trying not to stare at their leader, Shiro lost in thought, and Roan analyzing him.

Hunk starts to speak up, anything to ease the uncomfortable air. However, his mouth snaps shut as Roan turns to the rest of them, resting her blade on her shoulder.

“Who is next?”

The paladins all share a look, Hunk’s Adam’s apple bobbing with a harsh swallow. There isn’t enough ice in the castle for the pain they are about to endure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! 
> 
> Back again with a new update. This focuses on Keith and Shiro for the most part.   
> Not much else to say here. I hope you're all enjoying this story! 
> 
> ~Be Awesome~


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of Team Voltron goes up against Roan in the training room. Keith doesn't act like himself and Shiro worries.

“This isn’t fair,” Pidge grouses, rubbing at a painful ache in her left shoulder.

Roan threw her over her shoulder and slammed her into the ground. She understands that the Blade wasn’t going to go easy, but damn, did she have to body slam her? There’s a limp in her step, making her way to Lance, Hunk, and Shiro by the wall. Sliding down between the Blue and Yellow paladin, her head rests back against the sleek walls.

“Seriously, that last move was uncalled for.”

Lance shoots a side glare her way that doesn’t hold any heat. “At least she didn’t break your nose,” he grumbles with a nasal tone due to tissues stuck up his nostrils. The edges disappearing into his nose tinged with blood, faint bruising blossoming over the tanned skin of his nose and into the orbitals of his eyes.

“It’s not broken, Lance.” Shiro corrects with a tired breath.

Ocean blue eyes are blown wide, protesting vehemently. “It sure feels like it! My face is my most redeeming quality and she ruined it!”

Pidge snorts. “I think she fixed it.”

Lance gawks with an offended shriek. He’s about to launch into a lengthy rebuttal when Shiro squats down to their level and grabs his shoulder.

“Trust me, Lance. I’ve had my fair share of broken noses. You’ll be fine in a few days and no one but us will know about this.”

Shiro is sincere, not a single note of condescending in his words. Crossing his arms and looking away, the Blue paladin admits.

“I trust you, Shiro. Just-” He shakes his head, biting back his words.

Now is not the time to start feeling down on himself. His fight with Roan was horrible. Barely two minutes. One minute and fifty-seven seconds are all he lasted before she pinned him to the floor, foot pressing down on his chest with her blade staring him in the face.

It’s another thing he can’t do, and god, it seems like that list won’t stop growing.

Squeezing the Blue paladin’s shoulder, Shiro reassures him. “It’s okay. I’m proud of all of you for lasting as long as you did.” His gaze drifts to Pidge and Hunk too, the two nodding in appreciation. Getting back to his feet, he turns his attention back to the center of the training room where Keith stands opposite of Roan.

The Red paladin holds himself tall, his lithe form poised for the impending battle. His bayard materializes in his right hand, forming into the sword that is his primary weapon. Roan wears a blank face, her golden eyes unsettling with their impassive stare. Her Luxite blade spins in her grip, a slight bend in her knees. She dons her hood and then the holographic mask covers her features.

Suspense fills the seconds before Keith lunges. He keeps low, moving with lightning speed. Then he swings, blade aimed for Roan’s chest and, with a jarring clash, it collides with Roan’s sword. She shoves him back, not moving to attack.

That’s her style, though. She defends until her attacker wears themselves down. Then she goes on the offensive, brutally ending the fight.

Keith goes in again, their blades slamming against one another. Shiro watches with a crease forming between his eyebrows.

He’s observed Keith fighting for a while. Back at the Garrison, the two always trained together. Even now in space that hasn’t changed. So, Shiro knows Keith like the back of his hand. What moves he makes, his style, his agility, and speed — all of it. Which is why watching Keith now has the Black paladin confused.

His attacks are more controlled. Gone are the impulsive moves and gut reactions that were his greatest weapon. Being unpredictable gave Keith his edge, that combined with his natural ability and excessive training made him one of their best hand-to-hand fighters beside Shiro. Now, though, each move is calculated. He’s pulling back, analyzing his attacks and his opponents. 

It’s not wrong, but it’s not Keith. His moves are choppy and uncoordinated and Roan takes advantage. The paladins cringe as Keith takes a nasty hit, the Marmorite smashing the hilt against the Red paladin’s jaw. He stumbles and Roan advances, swinging her blade. It cracks against his shield, brought up in time to deflect the otherwise deadly blow. Countering, he jabs at Roan’s exposed side.

“Holy quiznak!” Lance shouts, the other paladin’s jaws dropping.

Roan stopped the jab, Keith’s blade currently gripped in her hand, her strength halting the momentum. Blood drips from her hand and Keith stares stunned before she yanks him forward, her elbow connecting with his face.

An uneasy crunch sounds, Hunk gagging. It’s chaotic as Keith stumbles back again, shield up as Roan moves with a speed none of them have seen. She hits the shield over and over, and Shiro sees her next move before Keith does.

His focus is on keeping himself protected from the violent onslaught of her blade. He doesn’t see what she’s planning and that’s his downfall. In one fluid movement, Roan swings her blade against the shield again, pressing into Keith’s personal space, and sweeps the paladin’s legs out from beneath him.

Keith goes down hard, Roan’s foot coming down on his left arm that grips his bayard. He hisses in pain, blood spilling down his nose. Even more spills from a gash in his lip, and Roan poises her blade over his heart, letting her mask fade away. Golden eyes stare down at violet ones, again impassive and calculating.

Sheathing her blade, she reaches a hand down after a tense moment. Reluctantly, Keith takes the offered hand, groaning deep in his chest with pain. The other paladins make their way over, Shiro eyeing the Red paladin in worry.

“You okay, man?” Lance asks straight away, tracing over the bruising and bloodied skin. Each of their fights was brutal, but Keith’s seemed to be worse.

Keith mulls over his response, wanting to brush off their concern, but the worry pouring off Shiro has him rethinking his response.

“You did not fight with your full potential, Red paladin.”

Caught off guard, Keith snaps in defense at the Galra’s words. “Excuse me?”

“You do not fight like that in a typical battle.”

“And how would you know?”

“I watched your performance during the Trials. You changed your style and that is why you took as many hits as you did. Why did you change?”

Keith glares, getting more defensive as he readies an excuse. What he didn’t expect was Shiro to speak up in agreeance.

“I noticed that too,” he admits, arms crossed over his chest. “Is everything all right, Keith?”

“I’m fine,” he retorts, curt.

“Dude, no offense, but you’re our best fighter.  That fight, you were not on top of your game. We know you want to keep you emo facade, but seriously, we can all tell something is wrong.”

Hunk and Pidge nod, agreeing with Lance. Their stares pin him down, and Keith feels trapped. His chest heaves, hands fisted at his sides as he glares through his bangs.

“Nothing is wrong. I wanted to try something different, okay? So, get off my back!”

Shiro’s eyebrows draw closer together, lips turned down in a frown. “Keith, we’re not ganging up on you. We’re just worried.”

“Well, don’t. I’m fine,” he asserts before leaving the training room, a slight limp to his step.

The other paladins all share a look, but don’t follow. Chasing after Keith will only lead to a fight – physical or verbal. They won’t let this go, though. Something eats at the Red paladin, and they’re not going to let him suffer alone.  

Everyone has noticed the walls Keith erected since discovering he’s part Galra. Nobody cares about that. Keith is still Keith to them. Knowing that he’s part alien doesn’t change that. However, Keith doesn’t seem to be very accepting of the fact leaving the others at a loss.

Shiro releases a weary breath, running a hand through his white tuft of hair. “I’ll talk to him,” he reassures. “We’re done training for the day. I want you all to rest and ice. If you need to, see Coran and have him get some Altean healing balms for the bruises.”

Pidge, Hunk, and Lance nod before trudging out of the room with slumped shoulders and dampened spirits. The Black paladin’s skin prickles and he turns to find those golden cat-like eyes on him.

He clears his throat to address Roan. “Thanks for the help today. I know the others don’t agree, but I appreciate you not going easy on us. It helps us to gauge where we’re at and what skills we need to practice on.”

Roan nods. He glances down at her bleeding hand. “You should have that looked at.”

Sparing a look at her wound, the Blade shrugs. Shiro can’t help the deep frown that tugs at his lips. Part of him doesn’t understand why people brush off the pain. If you hurt, there is nothing wrong with admitting that. Another part, though, the part that spent a year as a Galran prisoner, understands that pain means weakness. Bearing that is necessary if you want to survive.

“Your friend is deeply troubled.”

“Yeah,” Shiro breathes, looking towards the closed door of the training room.

“Kolivan was impressed with his abilities in the Trials. He fights with the spirit of a Galra soldier. That battle now held no essence of a Galra fighter.”

“What do you mean?”

“He is fighting who he is,” she admits.

Shiro’s eyes widen in shock, before growing stormy with thoughts.

_Oh, Keith._

Another heavy breath leaves the Black paladin, struggling to figure out how to help his friend.

“May I spare a word of advice, Black paladin?” Shiro nods, eager for some help. Roan meets his gaze, candid as she speaks. “All must let gravity take them out of orbit in order to learn how to be drawn back in. The Red paladin must come to accept himself on his own terms before letting you help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again! 
> 
> As a side note here, other characters POV will come later -- Pidge and Lance have an intertwined storyline that I'm super excited to bring to you. It's not for several chapters, though. We're almost halfway done with this story! I'm planning for about 16 chapters, give or take. 
> 
> I'm still managing the weekly updates so until I can't that's how it's going to be. Thank you so much to everyone who leaves kudos and comments and reads this. I appreciate it! 
> 
> Next chapter is full of action and a little deeper dive into what's going on in Keith's head with this new development. 
> 
> ~Be Awesome~


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith decides to do some late night training. He didn't want anybody to join. Sometimes, you don't get what you want.

Lungs burning, his chest heaves with each desperate gasp of air. Sweat trails down his face, jet black hair sticking to the back of his neck and face. His muscles tremble from the excessive overuse of them.

“Start training sequence,” Keith orders the Castle AI, dropping to his fighting stance as the gladiator drops from the ceiling.

He lost track of time the moment he started, unaware of how long he’s been at this. All he knows for certain is that the others have all long since gone to sleep. A fact he made sure of before sneaking out to the training room. Shiro’s lights were off in his room and he hadn’t heard the Black paladin walk by meaning that for once he’s actually sleeping. Otherwise, he would have asked his friend to join him. Tonight, though, he wants to be alone.

The gladiator attacks, Keith stumbling back from the blow. He blocks another, parries, and goes for an attack. It’s stopped, the gladiator making a swipe for the Red paladin that he barely dodges.

_Focus. Think don’t act._

Jumping back, Keith avoids the hit, his blade clashing against the gladiator’s sword again and again. His body itches to move on that innate instinct that keeps him alive. Instead he fights it, forcing himself to be strategic, to plan his blows instead of going with his gut.

It’s not working.

The gladiator slams into him and he meets the training deck floor with a strained grunt before rolling to his feet.

“End training sequence.”

Keith jumps, turning to find Roan standing in the doorway. The gladiator disappears, leaving the two in awkward silence.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, breathless from the exertion. The Red paladin keeps his eye on the Blade as he heads over to the bench to grab a water pouch.

She tears her gaze away from him, stalking towards the center of the room. The soft glide of her Luxite blade being unsheathed sounds in the silence. Keith never takes his eyes off her, nose scrunching up in confusion. He drains the water pouch, drawing in a deep breath, wondering what the Blade is up to.

Her hood is up, mask on, and an uneasiness settles in his gut. Facing Roan fully, his fingers itch for his bayard, taking in her stance. Even with the mask up, Keith can feel that golden stare piercing through him.

“Do you want to fight?” The question shows his weariness and uncertainty of her intentions.

Roan twirls her blade in her hand, Keith eyeing the weapon. It’s similar to the other Blade of Marmora members. Each sword is curved with a sharp tip, a near exact copy of the Persian Scimitar Blade. He watches it spin in her grip — the weapon an extension of herself, making the motion natural and fluid.

It stops along with his heart as she charges at him. He ducks under her attack, fingers latching onto his bayard as it materializes into his sword. Stumbling back, away from the Galra, Keith blocks a fierce blow — pain radiating up into his arms from the force.

Roan is relentless, her strikes quick and deadly. Each move is designed to be lethal. This isn’t a friendly spar. It’s survival.

Keith curses himself, fire burning in his belly. The Blades were supposed to be the good guys. They were supposed to be allies. Guess, he thought wrong as he jabs at the Galra in retaliation. Roan dodges the sword with a gracefulness that Keith can’t help but admire despite the searing rage in his blood.

A growl tears free from his lips as he launches at her. They parry, trading glancing blows and merciless hits. He’s focusing on each attack she delivers, searching for a blind spot. As a result, he gets hit.

The elbow to the face as she sidesteps his jab has tears springing to his eyes. Rapidly, he blinks them clear -- surprised that Roan didn’t take the moment of shock to end him. Shaking off the surprise in time, he ducks under her reach and evades another hit. Every cell in his body is screaming to charge at her, to stop focusing on her tactics and just move.

Instead, he continues to ignore instinct -- which he regrets in the next instant.

Roan’s arm snaps up, blocking his swing as she kicks him in the chest. The air pushed from his lungs in a violent gasp when he hits the floor with a desperate wheeze. He coughs, rolling to his feet, a bit unsteady.

Roan comes running, arms close to her body, and Keith watches her shift her weight, knowing she’s going to swing at him from the right. Readying for the attack, he jabs at her open spot and gawks when instead of landing the hit, his sword collides with hers. He read the attack wrong.

Her large hand grips his sword-wielding arm. Hooking her arm around his, she twists his body and forces his shoulder back at a painful angle. A sharp yell escapes him, her grip loosening before she shoves him forward. Stumbling, Keith readies for the next attack. Blood drains from his face, his gaze shooting down at empty hands before looking back at the Marmorite. Roan stands with her Luxite blade in her right and his bayard in her left.

It’s returned back to its original form and he watches as she tosses it across the room, far away from him. Keith’s lips curl back in a snarl and he sprints, hoping his speed will be enough to get him to his weapon. With or without it, he’s not going to stop fighting.

Roan crashes into him, grabbing his shoulders and throwing him back in the opposite direction of his bayard. He rolls, quick to get his feet back under him. Again, Keith makes a dash for his weapon and once more, Roan intervenes, knocking him back.

It takes the second time to see that Roan purposefully blocks his path. Yet, she doesn’t attack him. Her sword stays drawn but never used as he stands defenseless across from her. Part of him wants to think it’s an honor thing. That she won’t attack an enemy unless they have a fair advantage, but then why would she prevent him from getting to his bayard? No, she’s toying with him, he realizes. It sends white-hot anger raging through his veins.

Keith makes another attempt, only to be thrown to the ground again. Shoving himself upright, he snarls at the Galra, hands clenched tight.

“You act as though you need that weapon when both of us know you are not defenseless, Red paladin.”

Confusion lines his raging features until Roan twirls her Luxite blade. His lip twitches in a mixture of shame and fury, remembering the small knife holstered at his back. He’s not one of them. Wielding that blade means accepting that part of his heritage and he can’t. He meant what he said to Allura, that not all Galra are bad. But now, knowing that he’s part of them, part of the species that destroyed Altea, that kidnapped Pidge’s father and brother, that tortured Shiro — he can’t help but feel like it was partly his fault.

His thoughts are interrupted as Roan makes a move. She rushes Keith, swinging and he can feel how close that sharp blade comes across his chest. He’s not wearing his paladin armor. Typically, when he fights the gladiators he doesn’t wear it. Now, he desperately wishes he had the protection.

Roan swings again, nearly clipping Keith. He grunts, taking the brunt of a well-aimed punch to the abdomen before making another go for his bayard. Roan hooks her foot around his leg, tripping him up as she brings her blade down on him. He rolls, the sword clashing with the training room floor.

There’s a finality to her shoulders, an air of certainty that has a shiver running down the Red paladin’s spine. She’s done toying with him. This is the end and Keith will die unless he starts fighting back.

He sends a forlong look to where his bayard is, considering if he can pull off the same move he did with the gladiator that time Sendak possessed the Castle.

The chance is lost before he can even move, Roan storming towards him. Keith doesn’t have to see her face to know that this is the crushing blow. But he won’t go down without a fight. He can’t let her hurt the others. He has to prove that not all Galra are bad.

Roan jabs, Keith twisting away at the last second as he draws his knife from the sheath behind his back.

No more calculating his moves. No more fighting his innate instinct. This is who he is and he’s going to show everyone that his heritage does not define him.

He moves on instinct, twisting his body to throw as much force behind each swing. Frustration eats at the Red paladin, exhaustion creeping into his muscles. Every attack is blocked.

He’s landed a few decent kicks and a couple of solid fists on the Blade. It was enough to stop her never-ending attacks and put her back on the defensive, just as she wants. Keith picked up on her tactic from the previous fight, yet, he continues to wear himself thin going after her again and again.

Drawing in a gasping breath, Keith doesn’t think of a strategy. He rushes at her, a battle cry billowing from his lungs. Roan drops her weight, blade poised, and Keith swings. She readies a block and Keith’s eyes snap shut at the last second as he drops to his knees, sliding past the Galra. The momentum carries him forward and he twists his body, almost stumbling, knife raised for Roan’s neck.

“Drop the blade,” he pants, sweat trickling down his face.

 His black t-shirt clings to his back and chest. Every muscle in his body weak with exhaustion as a slight tremble begins in his arms while keeping his knife poised for the throat of the Blade. He stands behind and off to the side of her with a calculating gaze.

The Luxite blade clatters to the training room floor, Roan standing tall and unafraid with the threat of death so close. Keith moves with caution, rounding around her and to her front. Her mask falls away and those golden eyes stare him down.

“Well done.”

His eyebrows crease together in confusion, refusing to let his guard down. “What do you mean?” he snaps, huffing in frustration.  “You were supposed to be our ally! You just tried to kill me!”

Keith grows more confused as a tiny smirk curve the lips of the Galra. “Red paladin, there were multiple instances in which I could have taken your life. I never acted on any. You walk away with superficial injuries whereas I could have left you with deep wounds. This was not to harm you but to help bring you to a decision. One that I am glad you came to.”

Her golden eyes flicker to the dagger he holds when a look of realization passes over Keith’s face. “You wanted me to use the knife.”

She nods, pushing the hood down to reveal her intricate braided hair. Sweat dots her lilac skin, fatigue evident in her dulled gaze.

“Why?” The knife falls away from her throat, Keith’s troubled gaze finding the glowing gold of the Marmorite.

“You know why, Red paladin. I see that the news of your heritage has brought you great internal struggle. It is understandable with the history of the Galra species. Yet, you have no reason to despise it. Your team accepts you. You are still the same person that you were when you arrived at our base. A simple fact should not change your perspective of yourself or else you risk losing yourself to the dark depths of the soul.”

Keith glances down at the blade in his grip. She’s right. He fought through the Trials of Mamora to figure out who he was. The only way he awoke the blade was to admit that he already knew who he was. Yet, here he is trying to change that because he wasn’t sure if he really did know who he was anymore. Learning that he’s part Galra shouldn’t change him. It’s just another puzzle piece to the growing puzzle of who he is as he grows older.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, sheathing the knife. The weight no longer a burden but, once again, a comfort he’s relied on for years.

Roan only nods, retrieving her Luxite blade before grabbing his bayard. She hands it to him, a hint of pride in her stoic features. Even without words, Keith recognizes the unspoken question. He grabs the bayard, holding that calculating gaze, knowing she sees his answer.

_I trust you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! 
> 
> So I sort of like to think that Keith tried to change himself after learning about his heritage. Obviously, though, the others, especially Shiro, shut that down immediately. Or in this case or lovely resident Blade member :) Hope you all enjoyed a little more action this time around. 
> 
> Next update will deal with Shiro. 
> 
> See you next week! 
> 
> ~Be Awesome~


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro has trouble sleeping and takes a stroll around the Castle. Turns out, he's not the only one who doesn't sleep.

Shiro feels the room closing in on him, ready to suffocate him with the way his thoughts fill the dark space. Sleep won’t come, standing the Black paladin up like a cheap date as he lies restless in bed. All night a battle of indecision waged inside of him – unsure whether to reach out to Keith or not.  It doesn’t help that Roan’s words have him at a stalemate.

To say that Shiro was impressed with the Blade’s analysis of the Red paladin would be an understatement.

Shiro and Keith have known each other a long time now, long enough that numbers don’t matter anymore. It took time to understand Keith. Time to climb the mile-high walls he built. He did, eventually — earning Keith’s trust and realizing that Keith was the little brother Shiro always wanted.

Which leads back to his battle with indecision.

Roan says Keith needs to figure this out on his own. On one hand, Shiro understands that. He can’t make Keith accept himself. Coming to terms with the discovery of his heritage is something that the Red paladin will have to do alone. However, that doesn’t mean Shiro shouldn’t be by his side to support him and remind him that this doesn’t change who he is.

He wants to help. The problem is that he doesn’t quite know how to without pushing Keith away.

Keith would never readily accept help — a part of his nature that Shiro fights with consistently. All of his life, it was spent watching out for himself. The Red paladin doesn’t trust people to have his back — doesn’t hold faith that they will stay to fight instead of walking away.

Shiro is proud as hell of Keith. In the time they spent in space (nobody knows how much time has passed since that fateful day), Keith has grown. The beginnings of a brilliant leader are shining through that jaded exterior. He may still be impulsive and a tad reckless. Yet after the wormhole on that planet, Shiro witnessed the Red paladin maintaining a calm, collected mindset that saved both of them.

The Black Lion even allowed Keith to fly in order to save him. One thing Shiro knows for sure about Black is that she does not let just anybody pilot her. A specific quality must be possessed in order to earn the trust that the Black Lion rarely gives. Keith had it, and the Black paladin knows that if anything were to happen to him, Keith could lead the others.

It’s a lot of responsibility to put on him, Shiro aware of that. The weight he bears is crushing. Some nights he’s not sure how he can go on, but then he sees the other paladins — sees them laughing, pulling pranks, maintaining their innocence.

The Black paladin is not a fool. This war they are fighting, it’s stripped them all of their child-like wonder and carefree dreams. They are soldiers, whether they want to admit it or not. With that comes a dark sense of humor and a cynical outlook on the massive universe. It puts a burden on their shoulders that can be suffocating and turns peaceful nights into Hell’s playground.

Shiro isn’t the only one suffering from insomnia. He’s caught everybody more than once roaming the halls, trying to lose themselves in one activity or the other.

Pidge works on algorithms and codes and scouring Galra prison data until she passes out. Hunk takes apart space equipment that he knows nothing about and then spends hours putting it back together; refusing to sleep until the machine works as it used to. Lance wanders, choosing to suffer in heavy, isolated silence. More often than not, Shiro finds the Blue paladin on the bridge staring at the constellations of their solar system. Searching for some kind of familiarity when galaxies away from home. Keith trains until he can’t stand, limbs so worn they tremble in exhaustion. Shiro…well, Shiro busies himself by doting on the others. He pushes his trauma aside, focusing on the team and their individual needs.

Hence the reason why the Black paladin has such a shoddy relationship with sleep.

With a heavy breath, Shiro kicks the blankets off, slipping on his vest and boots. He runs a hand through the white forelock of hair, tugging loosely at the strands as the doors slide open.

The hallway is empty, thick with silence. Soft blue lights line the floors, casting a glow over the slick white floors. His steps echo which disturb the quiet. There’s no direction, Shiro moves aimlessly through the Castle of Lions. He passes the Rec room, the kitchen, the med bay, and the bridge.

Shiro can’t help but stop there for a little while, staring out into the vastness of the universe around them. A star shines in the distance, light years away, reminding him how unfathomable space can be.

His mind refuses to settle, though, and he leaves the bridge, feeling so small in comparison to the universe surrounding him. It’s a feeling he’s yet to grow accustomed to. When that Galra ship found him and the Holts on Kerberos, Shiro felt very insignificant in the grand schemes of things. Until he crashed back into Earth and was rescued by a group of teenagers. Finding Voltron and owning the title of Defenders of the Universe, well, it certainly helped with that daunting feeling. Still, nights like this where his mind turns against him and fills him with uncertainty, he can’t help but regret wanting to reach for the stars.

A sharp sound, one very distinct and familiar, cuts through the silence of the Castle hallway. Shiro takes in his surroundings, having been too lost in his own head to recognize where he wandered. His dark eyes land on the training room door, another sharp sound coming from within. He recognizes it as the same clatter of a sword clashing against metal.

Keith.

There’s nobody else that would be in the training room at this hour other than the Red paladin. Shiro wonders how long he’s been at it, though. Knowing how engrossed Keith can get, Shiro readies himself with a deep breath before entering. He still has no idea what to say, but he can’t let the Red paladin drive himself into the ground. All he can hope is that this confrontation will go smoothly because, in all honesty, Shiro’s not sure he has the energy to argue.

The doors slide open for him and the sight before the Black paladin has a relieved grin framing his lips.

Roan and Keith parry, swords grating against each other as they twirl and spin away from one another’s attacks. Stepping into the room, the doors shut behind him, and Shiro leans against the wall observing.

Any worries he had prior to the Red paladin slip away as he watches. The moves Keith makes are familiar — the same stunning ones that always kept Shiro on his feet when the two sparred together. There’s no stopping the smile on the Black Paladin’s face. Whatever happened from the training earlier to now, Keith seems to have gotten over whatever was troubling him.

Part of Shiro is disheartened — knowing that he figured it out on his own without talking it over with him. Another part, the bigger part, is grateful that the Red Paladin was able to figure out his dilemma. The truth is, what Roan said about learning to accept yourself; it’s a hundred percent true. Nobody can help you figure out who you are. Seeing that Keith was able to do it on his own, well, it only fills the Black paladin with greater pride.

The two swords crack against one another again, the two pushing, locked in place by their blades. Until Roan sweeps her Luxite blade down, using her momentum and gravity to deflect Keith’s counter-attack and step closer. She spins, releasing one hand on her sword to wrap around the Red paladin’s neck while the other holds her blade upright, caught once again in a stalemate with the Red bayard.

She releases him after a tick, Keith huffing with aggravation as he glares up at the Galra. Except her attention has shifted, and Shiro realizes those piercing golden eyes are now on him.

He grins, a tad sheepish at being caught. “Nice fight. I’m glad to see you two working together.”

Keith grabs the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up to wipe the sweat from his forehead. His lips curl up at the edges with a soft smile as his gaze flickers to the alien beside him.

“Yeah.” The sword in his hand goes back to its original form and he stretches his arms. “I thought you were asleep?”

Shiro shrugs, arms crossed over his chest. “How long have you two been at it?”

A frown tugs at Keith’s mouth, eyebrows drawing together. For a couple of ticks, Shiro is afraid Keith will pry. Instead, he shrugs his shoulders too. “Not sure. A while. I’m pretty beat.”

He looks it too, Shiro notes as he carefully looks over the younger. Dark bags line his eyes, and his sharp features are worn. His shoulders droop as though the weight of his head alone is too much.

“Get some water and head to bed,” he orders, a tenderness to his words that Keith fondly rolls his eyes at before folding his arms over his chest.

“And what about you? Are you going to bed?”

An inaudible sigh escapes him, running his human hand across the back of his neck. “Yeah, soon.”

The words don’t please the Red paladin but he nods nonetheless. He shares a silent look with Roan before heading for the door. Keith stops at Shiro’s side, resting a hand on his shoulder with a soft squeeze before the doors slide open and then closed.

“Thank you.” Shiro’s voice loud in the silent room. He meets Roan’s gaze head on, noting the little twitch of her cat-like ears and the scrunching of the red mark on her nose. She tilts her head, Shiro assuming to ask what for.

“I don’t know what happened while you two trained but he seems like he’s back to himself. I’m assuming it’s as a result of something you did.”

She nods, sheathing her blade. He waits a couple of ticks, hoping that she will explain.

Why he waits, he’s not sure. Roan has already proven in her short time on the ship that she is not one to use words. She answered his question. He shouldn’t need any more from her, but he can’t help the itch of curiosity in how she helped the Red paladin.

“Knowledge or death, Black paladin. That is the way of the Blade.”

Shiro grimaces, hands clenching against his biceps with the reminder of the motto.

He trusts the Blade of Marmora. Ulaz saved him not once but twice, dying for his team even. Roan had multiple opportunities to harm them significantly during their training. If she had any ill intentions, she would have already made them known. Still, hearing those words spoken so freely and seeing how worn Keith was, it has the paladin’s hackles rising.

“You do not agree with my method. That is understandable. If it helps to ease some of your troubles, I never would have killed him,” Roan offers with ease.

“It doesn’t,” he answers with a sharp bluntness that catches him off guard. For a moment, he expects the Blade to lash back. Instead, he finds an amused smile.

“Good.” Staring in confusion, Shiro’s lips twist into a frown. “It would be concerning if you were to be comfortable with the possibility of death for one of your team,” Roan elaborates, still standing in the center of the training room — looking powerful yet humble in her posture.

The persona she gives off differs from the Galra that Shiro has come to know. Despite Kolivan and Antok being their allies, they still have that intimidating aura that Shiro associates with all Galra -- except now.

His tone is inquisitive as he questions in honest. “The motto of the Blade of Marmora is knowledge or death. I don’t see you guys being concerned with team camaraderie.” 

“The mission is more important than one individual. In war, there is a cost that we all pay.”

“Then why do you care whether we worry about each other or not?”

Roan remains stone-faced. “Your species is not the same as ours. Terran are a pack species, correct? The Galra, especially the Blade of Marmora, do not rely on each other. We are private, devoted solely to our cause. It leaves no room for connections. That’s how we thrive. Yet, you humans crumble without camaraderie. It is your nature to seek each other out. A death of one of the paladins would be the end of Voltron. Your grief would ruin the bond and leave no room for anyone to take their place. That is why I worry. We want Zarkon’s Empire to be nothing but ash. In order for that, we need you paladins in one piece.”

Her brutal truthfulness has the Black paladin speechless for a moment. It’s war. He knows that in times like this you align yourself with whoever you can trust in order to win. Still, it’s surprising to hear it put so bluntly. The Blade of Marmora is aware that on their own they don’t stand a chance against Zarkon. Allura and the rest of the team Voltron also know that without the Blade of Mamora, going up against Zarkon will only end in disaster. The alliance is a no-brainer.

“So, you think caring about each other makes us weak?”

“Yes,” Roan answers. Shiro’s face twists in disagreement. He opens his mouth to protest, but Roan goes on. “Yet, it also makes you stronger. You have a team you can rely upon without any fear of doubt. However, you also lose sight of the cause in order to protect each other. You do not see sacrifice as a necessary cost of war. Whereas my people, they do not worry about giving their lives. It is an honor.”

Now, Shiro finds himself speechless because he understands that line of thinking. It’s not exact, but a lot of what Roan believes is what the military preached. The Garrison wasn’t only space exploration. It was space military. Air Force was daycare compared to the rigorous training and skill level of the Garrison. The message, though, was always the same.

A creed that swore to answer the call of the people, to uphold a legacy of bravery and honor, to defend earth with their lives, to never leave a man behind, and, lastly, to never fail.

It’s an ethos that is ingrained in Shiro’s bones. One that even after a year of torture from the Galra, they could not change. So, he gets what Roan says. She is not wrong either. Having a bond with your team does make you stronger. Protecting them, saving them, that doesn’t make you weak. It, however, does make it hard when you swear to protect the entire human race and promise to never accept defeat — even when you know that means giving up your life for theirs.

With a heavy breath, the Black paladin nods. “You’re right about both sides. On our planet, though, the others are just kids. Hell, I’m still considered young. When I think about them getting hurt…”

Shiro can’t help the sudden flinch when a heavy hand falls on his shoulder. He meets bright golden eyes, a sliver of a grin on Roan’s lips. “You are the pack leader. It is natural to worry about the pups in your care.”

His eyes widen, tongue floundering. If he’s right, Roan just called him a Dad. There’s no mistaking the Blade’s amusement at Shiro’s indignation. He pouts, arms crossing over his chest. “I’m not…it’s, it’s not—I’m like the…the cool big brother.”

Roan quirks a brow, pulling her hand away. “You are whatever you want to be, Black paladin.” She reassures with a hint of teasing in her words.

He rolls his eyes, grumbling under his breath as he leaves the training room, Roan right behind him.

“Not a Dad. I’m not even that old.”

He ignores the barely concealed huff of laughter.

They walk side by side in companionable silence. Echoes of their steps fill the quiet halls as they walk aimlessly. A yawn billows from Shiro and he rubs at his burning eyes, wondering what time it could be now. Allura and Coran managed to create a sleep/wake cycle for the paladins that worked alongside the Altean’s circadian rhythms. But it’s not like they have clocks in the halls, and Shiro didn’t bother checking the clock in his room before going on this adventure.

“You do not sleep, do you?” Roan asks, breaking the silence with her soothing voice.

Shiro rubs the back neck, sheepish. He can’t help feeling that way when the Marmorite questions him. Talking to her makes the Black paladin feel like she knows all of his secrets. He feels exposed. It’s not bad. On the contrary, Shiro feels a sense of ease from the Blade member. There’s a sense of trust with that exposure — that he won’t be exploited for his weaknesses.

“Not really,” he admits, crossing his arms once again. His prosthetic hand curls into a fist against his bicep.

The silence returns, but it’s heavy with anticipation. Roan’s gaze burns into the side of his head until Shiro gives in with a defeated exhale. His hands drop to his sides, the two continuing their languid stroll.

“Earlier you talked about the ’haunted warrior.’ I…well, I-I don’t sleep because of the nightmares.” He wants to curl into himself with the honest answer. That’s the first time he’s spoken the words out loud and it’s daunting, but with the admission, he can’t stop.

“It’s not always about my time as a Galran prisoner,” Shiro continues, filling the silence. His words rush together as he vents, letting that twisted knot of anxiety unravel. “I dream about the others, losing them and being left all alone. I dream of failing, of not living up to what the universe expects of us. Then there’s Earth, and I see the Galra tearing it apart.”

His prosthetic hand curls into a tight fist. The scar across his nose scrunches, eyebrows drawing together. He stopped walking, gaze glued to the smooth flooring.

“If it’s not the nightmares then it’s my thoughts. Thinking of every mistake I’ve made so far --how to better prepare the others, how to help Allura so that she has someone to shoulder this duty with. There is always something and it terrifies me.”

A heavy breath leaves the Black paladin, forgetting for a moment that he’s not alone. Roan stares down at him, features passive except for those always penetrating eyes.

She tilts her head, braided white hair falling over her shoulder. “The others, they do not know about this?”

“No. Keith…he knows a little.”

Roan hums, the sound emanating deep in her throat before questioning simply, “Why?”

Again, Shiro rubs the back of his neck, looking away from the Galra. He knows his answer is poor in reason. It’s all that he has, though. “I don’t want them to worry. They have enough to deal with. I’m not the only one with trauma here and they need someone to rely on. If I tell them what has happened, it’s just another nightmare for them. Keeping it locked up, it’s better.”

Those cat-like ears twitch, golden eyes growing harsh. “You worry for the well-being of your teammates yet neglect yourself. You wish to protect said teammates, but do not let them return the favor. Excuse me, but where is the logic in that mindset?”

Shiro can’t help a chuckle. “There isn’t. Humans aren’t logical beings all the time.”

“I am starting to see that.” Roan gives a slow shake of her head, eyes softening. “Yet, you argue that the other paladins are not your pups.”

The Black paladin’s lips curl into a genuine smile, surprised at the ease in which he banters with the Blade. The conversation is smooth, reminding him of talking to an old friend.

 “I still stand with what I said,” he huffs, little defense in his words because despite not wanting to admit it, he does take on that role of a parental figure. Fighting another yawn, Shiro takes a look around them to find that they are at the mouth of the hallway leading to the paladin sleeping quarters.

“Rest, Black paladin,” Roan urges, turning away from Shiro.

“Wait,” he calls, stopping her before she turns the corner. She stares at him, blank-faced, a question in her eyes. “Thank you for everything. Kolivan was right to trust you to change the Galra image.”

Her lips curl at the edge and Roan bows her head before disappearing.

When Shiro finally crawls into bed, his anxious thoughts are placated. Sleep greets him with eagerness, his final thought hoping the Dad jokes don’t get to the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everybody! 
> 
> New chapter! Sorry, that it's a little later than usual. I aim for once a week, but it could be every week and a half that I update. All of that depends on my schedule and this next month is looking to be pretty hectic. I'll do my best, though! Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Let me know what you think! 
> 
> Next chapter we'll get Allura's interaction with our Galra friend. 
> 
> ~Be Awesome~


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura is lost in the aftermath of defeating Zarkon. Who knew her resurgence of hope would come from the quietest of them all?

Void.

A black hole like the one staring back at Allura through the windows of the bridge. The life has been sucked from the Castle of Lions forming a pit that swallows them all whole. They’re clinging to anything and everything, desperate for a sign.

Allura bows her head with a clenched jaw, and teeth grinding together against the burn in her crystal blue eyes. She can’t cry.

The paladins are looking to her now. She must be strong — the pillar of strength and guidance, a voice of reason and understanding. The leader they lost.

Her hands ball up into fists at her sides, shaking with rage. She doesn’t understand. How? How is Shiro gone?

Like smoke or a soft breeze. One moment he was there, battle cry mingling with the other paladins as they destroyed Zarkon, and the next it was silent – an eerie silence that made the paladins race out of their lions and to the Black lion’s hangar; a silence that continues to hang over the team and eat away at their minds day after day with no answers in sight.

Shiro was nowhere to be seen in the Black lion – gone in a split second with no clues, nothing to give comfort to the heartbroken paladins.

Shoulders slumped, Allura hangs her head. They completed the mission, but what they gained they have lost tenfold.

Without Shiro, there is no Voltron. There is no leader, and all that’s left behind is a growing rift between the paladins. Keith spends forever out in the rubble of the battle searching for any sign of the Black Paladin. The others are out alongside him, but they are losing hope.

Three quintants.

Allura feels the loss as fresh as though it happened a varga ago. The whole ordeal is surreal. None of it makes sense and it drives the Princess mad. Fate brought the five paladins to the Castle of Lions, to her. Yet, she is the one who led them into this war. They had nothing to do with the Galra. No harm had come to their planet. For a period, the paladin’s home planet would have been safe. Yet, Allura dragged them into it, putting not only their lives but also Earth at risk.

Guilt weighs heavy on the Princess, bearing down on her slumped shoulders. Standing tall to lead like her Father raised her seems impossible.

How does she tell the others that it is time to move on when she herself can’t even fathom the thought? They are at war still. Even with Zarkon defeated they still have planets that need to be liberated from the Galra’s control. Allies must be gained, yet, Allura is stuck in place. None of these missions can be completed without Voltron.

Tears blur her vision, a broken plea whispered in the silence of the bridge. “Where are you, Shiro?”

A single tear slips free, trailing down the dark skin of her smooth cheek before hanging on the tip of her chin. She draws in a tight breath, forcing down the pain before wiping away the trail of wetness. Allura clenches her jaw, crystal blue eyes narrowing in focus before she starts searching the quadrant of space where the battle took place.

For now, she can search. Shiro did not give up on her when she had been captured. He and the rest of the paladins risked everything by coming after her. She will do the same.

Behind her, the doors to the bridge open. “Princess Allura,” the gruff voice greets, surprising the Altean.

Turning, she comes to face Kolivan and Roan. The fact that one of the Blades is missing is not a fact that goes unnoticed by the Princess.

When Shiro had convinced them to trust Ulaz and the coordinates he gave, Allura vehemently disagreed with the thought of working alongside with the enemy. She did not trust them; especially after Keith came back beaten from their initial meeting with the Blade of Marmora.

In the end, though, she was wrong to distrust them. Wrong to have judged Keith for something he knew nothing about or could change. The Blade of Marmora has been a trusted ally in this war. Without their aid, they never would have managed to create the Teladuv that allowed them to take down Zarkon’s ship. She trusts them now.

Red with shame, Allura chastises herself for how she treated them in their first encounter. She’s passed it now, thanks to Coran who reassured her, reminding her that the important lesson learned is that she admitted her false assumptions and corrected them.

“Kolivan, Roan, how may I assist you?” Her voice is rough, but if the Blade members notice they don’t say anything.

As usual, Kolivan does the talking. Allura spent most of her time deliberately ignoring Roan prior to the battle. It was not until the last few days of preparation, when the Blade had made good on their promises, that the Princess noticed how quiet the Galran is.

“We wish to discuss future plans. I am aware that you and the paladins are in a time of mourning, but we must not give up on our fight against Zarkon’s empirical reign. There are still planets that need liberation, information to be obtained. My people are ready to aid your mission in any way we can with hopes that you will reciprocate.”

Allura’s stomach twists, throat growing tight making words difficult as Kolivan speaks. Her gaze cuts to Roan, noting the typical blank look of the Blade. There’s displeasure, though, in the downturn of her lips. Even the penetrating golden eyes are dulled and grieving. Allura wonders if it is for the loss of Antok or Shiro. Perhaps even both -- which helps her make her decision right then and there.

A leader is meant to be selfless. You give everything you have for your people. Allura no longer has Altea, no one to call her own. She does, however, have the paladins -- a group of young fighters who have vowed to stand beside her and fight for the universe. They are her family now. She may be their leader like Shiro, which means she should take command and do what Kolivan is suggesting. But, she can’t because for just a moment Allura wants to be selfish.

Clearing her throat, the Princess addresses the leader of the Blades. “I have not forgotten of the work that is still needed in order to free the universe from under Zarkon’s thumb. However, this is not the time to be discussing these plans, Kolivan. I respect your drive, and I am aware that we are at war. Still, even in times of battle, we must take time to grieve. The paladins…even I, are not yet ready to believe that Shiro is gone. The whereabouts of his disappearance are too mysterious to assume that he is dead. Until we have exhausted all possibilities, the universe will have to wait.”

There’s a brief moment, a tick, where Allura sees the disagreement in Kolivan’s golden eyes. In that split moment, a fire is stoked to life in her chest, an instant inferno as she holds her chin up high. Except that the impending argument never happens.

Kolivan nods, bowing at his waist with a simple, “I understand, Princess Allura. My sincerest condolences to you and the paladins. If there is anything the Blade can aid you with during this time, we are ready to oblige.”

Caught off guard, Allura sputters. Quickly, she recovers, clearing her throat. “Thank you,” she says with deep gratitude. His words were truthful, that she could see, even if he did not agree full heartedly. “I am also sorry for your loss. Antok was an excellent fighter. I wish I had known him better in order to speak more highly of his character.”

It’s a tight nod that Kolivan manages. Despite the bluntness of the Blade leader, Allura knows that the loss of his right-hand man must be painful. “He was indeed an excellent fighter and a good man. But our mission is more important than any one individual.”

Allura can’t help but grimace. Not wanting to start an argument that was already avoided, she concedes, returning the tight nod. “I see. Is there anything else I can do for you and Roan?”

Kolivan glances behind him at his silent companion. Their gazes meet, their features giving nothing away before Kolivan faces her again. “The Blades will continue our efforts to take down the Galra Empire during your time of mourning. However, Roan has asked if she may stay behind with you and the paladins to be on hand if you require assistance since you are now down a member for an unforeseeable amount of time.”

“Oh.” Allura blinks owlishly. If this had been movements ago, she would have denied the request before the Blade could finish. Now, though, she can’t see a reason not to.

Roan has garnered the trust of the paladins, although, most of that comes from Keith, Hunk, and Shiro. Lance and Pidge trust the others but have voiced that they have not spent as much time with the Blade compared to the other three.

“I do not see an issue with this. However, this is not my sole decision to make. The Paladins will need to be on board before I agree.”

 “Of course, Princess Allura. We will be down in the hangar when you all decide.” Kolivan turns towards the door, Allura turning her back on the two exiting.

Her shoulders slump as the doors shut. Running a hand through her long white locks, she readies to continue her search.

“Your Black paladin is alive, Princess.”

A sharp squeak leaves Allura as she spins at her controls. Roan stands in the exact spot she was in, no hint of any emotion in her penetrating stare.

“I thought you had left to the hangar with Kolivan.” Sighing, the Princess’s brows furrow, lips pursed. “How are you so certain?”

The Blade shrugs, elaborating. “A soul as wounded as his does not know how to die.”

“How do you mean?”

“Warriors like your paladins do not die in silence like the supposed Black one. Death for these warriors is with the certainty of a mission completed in the company of their team.”

The crease between the Princess’s eyes has not left. “We defeated Zarkon…”

“But the mission still remains. Kolivan said it. The universe remains under Zarkon’s rule. This war is not won until every planet is liberated and the Galra empire is a horror story children have nightmares of.”

All signs point to an impossibility that Allura cannot fathom. However, the hopeless void that began to consume her is beaten back some. A small glimmer of hope shines through that darkness, bringing a tender grin to the Princess.

“Perhaps you are right.” Her gaze drifts to the darkness of space, catching sight of a nebula of glowing purple that stands in stark contrast against the inky black of space. They won’t give up. No matter how long it takes, Allura will find the Black paladin.

_We’re coming, Shiro._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hey, hey!
> 
> Sorry for the late update. This last month of the semester is kicking my butt and has me swamped with work. Do not fear, though! I have survived so far and will continue in order to bring you content. Hope you enjoyed Allura's POV! I'm going to try for another one later, but I'm not quite sure how it will play out with what I have planned. 
> 
> Next chapter we get our favorite Yellow paladin again :) I know Hunk, Keith, and Shiro have gotten a lot of attention, but 1) hunk needs more love in this fandom, 2) Keith becomes a BOM so all the more reason to have him bonding with Roan, and 3) I love Shiro, but also am really intrigued by his character and the whole PTSD and leader stress. That's my jam. 
> 
> Pidge and Lance are coming soon. I promise! They have a super awesome chapter that is what really inspired this whole story. 
> 
> Okay, enough of me blabbing. Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments make me happy :) 
> 
> ~Be Awesome~


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk gets some one on one training from Roan. He didn't expect their time to lead to this conversation.

Hunk flinches while exhaustion weighs heavy on the Yellow Paladin. He’s worn thin and ready to quit. His opponent, though, won’t accept that.

Roan is persistent — always a hit away from winning the fight yet conceding when the Paladin manages a miracle hit. Which they all are because they’ve been at this for forever. Hunk does not recall a time he ever had to fight this hard. She’s pushing his endurance, forcing him to endure for longer and longer than he can.

It’s all hand to hand too. No guns or fancy blades. Simple fists and footwork are all they use to take one another down.

She decided that each of the paladins needed more one on one training. Hunk is grateful for the help, but seriously? This is torture. He mentioned that and Roan gave him a blank stare, saying that this is only a warm-up for the Blade. Hunk’s convinced now that the Blade of Marmora is a secret society of exercise junkies.

 He’s winded, breaths ragged. Roan ducks, avoiding his sloppy punch and swipes her leg at his knees. He falls flat on his back, eyes closed against the lights beaming down on him.

“I’m done,” he breathes out, pushing off his paladin helmet. The orange headband around his head is soaked with sweat. His hair lays limp, stuck to his forehead. Face scrunched in disgust, he runs his gloved hand over his face, wiping the perspiration away.

A shadow falls over Hunk. Looking up, Roan stares down at him, her eight-foot-tall frame looming menacingly. She doesn’t try to be that way, Hunk thinks. It’s just part of being that tall and having an intimidating stare.

“I would prefer to go longer. However, I will not push you if you say you are done,” Roan admits. There’s a hint of jealousy as he looks over the Blade. She doesn’t look like she even broke a sweat!

Hunk nods, getting back to his feet while his legs feel like jelly. “Oh man,” he sighs. “I’m going to be sore tomorrow.” Aches are blooming in places he didn’t even know he had. “How long have we been at this?”

“Two varga.”

“Two varga!”

Roan blinks, passive to the awe of the Yellow paladin.

A long groan tears from him, dragging his feet on his way to the bench where a water pouch awaits him. Stabbing the straw through the hole of the pouch is an effort, arms akin to noodles at the moment. He sits heavy on the bench, blissful at the rest of his overexerted leg muscles, and drinks in earnest.

If the Yellow paladin had to choose between sparring or working out, the man would choose working out. He can spend a few good hours in the gym lifting weights and strengthening his muscles. Sparring, though, he hates it. The whole pummeling your enemy into submission is not his thing. He would much prefer to fight battles with range than close quarters where he doesn’t have to see the pain he inflicts.

Wiping more sweat from his face, Hunk sighs. The training room is empty except for Roan and him, but there’s an eeriness to it that has Hunk’s chest growing tight in grief. Here, the paladins spent hours bonding, strengthening their ties to form Voltron. Nostalgia clings to the smooth white walls of the room, forcing the Yellow paladin to deal with the grief he’s been trying to avoid.

There’s been no sign of Shiro in weeks now. Hunk won’t say it, he can’t, but the others are starting to lose hope, to think the worst. Keith is the only one who still goes to the wreckage anymore. Not that the others don’t care, they do. Shiro missing takes a toll on all of them. He is family, a crucial piece of this tight-knit group they formed in order to cope with the families they left back on Earth.

Pidge doesn’t sleep anymore. Not that she did before, but Hunk has to physically drag her away from the computers now. If she’s not searching the galaxy for Shiro then it’s for her brother, Matt.

Lance acts like he’s fine, still joking and lifting the team’s spirits. It breaks Hunk’s heart, though, because he knows Lance. They’ve been buddies for years. The Blue paladin jokes more to hide his pain, to mend the heartbreak of others while ignoring his own.

Allura continues to lead like the leader she was destined to be. Except, there is a heaviness to her shoulders and reluctance in her orders. Longing clouds her crystal blue eyes whenever she sees the Red Lion departing for the wreckage. She doesn’t want to continue on with this war, not unless Shiro is beside her to help lead.

Then there’s Keith. Hunk’s shoulders slump while his head falls back to stare up at the ceiling. The Red paladin might as well be gone too. He spends hours searching the wreckage over and over, but they’ve been through it dozens of times and nothing is out there. There’re no clues or even a trail to follow. It’s a wasteland of debris. Yet, Keith won’t give up.

Hunk blows out a long breath, warm dark eyes slipping shut. If only they could go back and somehow stop all of this.

“Those who dwell on what cannot be changed are destined to fail in the future for never looking forward.”

Blinking, Hunk turns to Roan, lips turning down in a frown. “That’s great advice but, uh, what does that have to do with me?”

Those cat-like ears twitch, flattening a tad. Her gaze remains stoic, though, even with the soft curl of her lips. “Are you not dwelling on the loss of your leader?”

His nose scrunches, face twisting with the pang of grief. “That obvious, huh?”

“It is natural for your species,” Roan appeases, features darkening before returning to her normal impassiveness.

“What do you mean by that?” Confusion lines the smooth, dark skin of the paladin.

“You are a pack species. When one of your own is lost, the toll weighs heavy on you since you can no longer function as you used to. Every member of the pack has a job. Losing a member creates a hole where they used to be. The job is not easily filled, the shared burden now heavier on the rest of you. Not to mention that you humans are companionable creatures. You thrive on camaraderie and flounder without it.”

A thoughtful hum follows Roan’s words, Hunk scratching his head in thought. He never thought of the human race in such a light. For him, you grow close to people and when they’re gone it hurts because they aren’t there to joke with or cry or laugh. It’s like reading a book and the pages are suddenly ripped out. All you’re left with is the past and no future.

But Roan’s right, in a much more clinical matter.

“Yet, you move forward because survival depends on it.” Roan stares off into the distance, lilac skin free of any lines to indicate troubled thoughts. A big smile would be nice to see on the alien – soften the harsh gaze and the stone face.

“I mean, I guess that’s true,” Hunk admits. If the human race dwelled on the deaths around them then they wouldn’t have lasted as long as they have.

“The Black paladin is not dead. Whatever has happened to him, wherever he may be, you will find him. However, you have spent weeks mourning his loss. It is time to move on.”

“Move on? We can’t just move on! Shiro was our leader. Nobody can take his place, literally. The Black Lion won’t come online for anybody. We can’t form Voltron without him.”

He’s surprised by his own hostility, fists clenched tight in his lap, teeth grinding from the growled words. Roan fixes him with that stare, pupil-less yellow eyes that pierce his mind.

“You adapt, Hunk. You each are strong as a unit in forming Voltron. However, you and your team forget that you are all strong as individuals. In order for a pack to stand its ground against others, it must have a powerful foundation —  those who make up the pack.”

“So, you’re saying that even though we don’t have Shiro, it doesn’t mean we can’t continue to fight?”

“Correct.”

Hunk rubs the back of his neck. Fighting without Shiro scares the crap out of him. He was the most experienced of them all. The leading, the fighting, the strategies, they’ve only made it this far because of that. Sure, Pidge, Lance, Keith, and he are smart, each talented in their own right, but what they are all good at, Shiro was better at it all. Now with him gone, they don’t stand a chance against their enemies.

“Why do you doubt your abilities?”

Unfazed by her question, Hunk shrugs.

He’s used to the way Roan reads him like an open book. The first time it happened, he was convinced the alien was a mind reader. Which was silly, but they are in outer space. There are some strange species out here in the universe, he wouldn’t be surprised.

As the weeks have passed, though, Hunk started doing some of his own observing of the Blade member. Roan rarely speaks. Conversations like the one they are having now are not common. She uses her words sparingly and if she is talking, you know you should be listening.

All of that time she doesn’t talk, though, is spent observing them. Never a moment passes where the alien isn’t watching. It’s creepy yet not. He’s not sure how to explain it. Simply, nobody is bothered by it and nobody says anything. They accept it and let it be.

“There is nothing to doubt. Your team is strong. I would not spend my time with you if you were not.”

Roan pulls her hood up and leaves the training room. Hunk watches her go, pride warming his chest. Maybe they can manage until they find Shiro.

At least, he hopes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY!!! This is way late and I apologize! Honestly, the last few weeks have been crazy and I didn't have any motivation to edit. Either way, I'm sorry for leaving you all hanging. Good thing there's no cliff hangars, right? 
> 
> Here's another chapter with Hunk!! I love this sweet boy so much. He's such a joy to write and he doesn't get nearly enough attention in the fandom. I hope you all like the chapter. Hunk and Roan are my little buddy duo <3
> 
> So, I know I've mainly have been focusing on Keith, Shiro, and Hunk. Allura got a chapter, but we haven't seen Pidge or Lance. I promise their chapters are coming!! As a matter of fact, Pidge is the next update :) There's a reason why I've pushed those two off and I hope that when their chapters come, you really enjoy them. 
> 
> Again, I apologize for the late update. The next one might be late too...Sorry! I'm leaving next week for vacation and will be gone for a couple of weeks. I'm going to try and update, but I can't make any promises. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who reads and those who comment and leave kudos. You're great!!!
> 
> ~Be Awesome~


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge has a potty mouth and Keith gets some advice.

Her eyes burn, fingers rubbing at the tired lids beneath her glasses. The data on the screens blur, bright pixels of colors that worsen the burning. Pidge blinks, eyelids slow to respond, resulting in a lazy, glossed look. She grabs her green mug, tilting it to see if the Altean equivalent of coffee is still there.

It’s empty.

A groan fills the silence of her workroom. For the Green Paladin, the concept of time has been lost for the past few weeks. She measures time by the completion of one data search and the beginning of another.

Her scanners file through every piece of data that she’s managed to obtain. One screen pilfers through Galran radio signals, prisoner transports -- looking for Shiro. Another does the same, scouring planets and talks of a rebel force in search of her brother. The whereabouts of her father are on another screen, doing twice the amount of the other programs since she has no leads.

Sliding down in her seat, Pidge closes her eyes, fingers steepled in front of her face. She’s worn to the bone. Hunk and Lance insist that she get some rest. The two even tried kidnapping her. When that resulted in Lance getting a nasty shock from her bayard, the two surrendered. Instead, now every hour they come by, checking to make sure she hasn’t died from exhaustion. They’ve tried enlisting help from the two Alteans, but after seeing the shortcomings of the Yellow and Blue Paladins they surrendered.

Pidge knows that this obsession will lead to a stay in the healing pods. There’s only so much the human body can take before it gives out. She’s pushing those limits.

The computer beeps, the Green Paladin sliding back upright in her seat. Yawning, she rubs her weary eyes again, her free hand tapping at the keys. It’s all muscle memory at this point.

Except, maybe she’s more tired than she expected.

The white dots clear from her vision after rubbing so hard. Her heart sinks into the pit of her growling stomach, pale face two shades whiter. The four and a half varga long scan, all the information that was decoded, was erased. She must have clicked the wrong thing when rubbing her eyes, even though she wants to deny the stupid mistake.

Gripping her short hair in frustration, the Green Paladin lets out a loud, angry curse. “Fuck!”

At the same moment, the doors behind her open and she swirls around, ready to unleash her wrath on her poor unsuspecting victim. Instead, she purses her lips, anger cooling into intrigue when she comes face to face with their residential Blade of Marmora.

“Green Paladin,” Roan greets, her pupiless yellow eyes meeting her hazel ones. “You did not show for our training.”

Pidge glances over at her computer, noting that indeed she missed training. Sheepish, she rubs the back of her head with a grimace. “Sorry, I got caught up with decoding these files.” Turning around in her chair, and sliding down in defeat she mutters, “Which I lost because I’m a fucking idiot.”

“What is that word? ‘Fuck?’”

A sharp yelp echoed in the large room, Pidge staring wide-eyed at the Blade who magically appeared at her side. She swears that the Blades are a secret society of ninjas. Or as Lance would say, _space ninjas._

Taking a steadying breath, Pidge waves off the apology from Roan, asking. “What was your question?”

Lilac ears twitch, the Green Paladin’s heart melting at the cuteness of the deadly being. She can’t understand how someone so lethal can be so adorable. Then again, that’s the very definition of a cat. The Galra are just humanoid versions of the domesticated felines.

“The word you said, what does it mean?”

Pink tinges Pidge’s ears. “Oh, um, it’s a curse word.”

Her heart sinks, Shiro’s reprimanding tone playing in her mind. She misses him, the constant chiding. If he was here right now, this wouldn’t be happening. Shiro would have used that voice, one she insists is near identical to the one her father used and dragged her to her room. All of her electronics would be confiscated and she would be forced to rest. She wouldn’t go without a fight, but in the end, after several hours of sleep, she’d be grateful for his intervention.

When Hunk and Lance do it, it’s not the same.

Roan’s eyebrows knit together, the red marking on her nose scrunched. “So, the word is used for an incantation?”

“There’s two definitions for the word ‘curse.’ So, no, in this context it’s a bad word,” Pidge explains, not sure how to convey the exact definition.

However, Roan seems to catch on. “Ah, you mean forbidden speak.”

“Uh, I guess? Is that what the Galra call curse words?”

“Yes. They are imprecations against those you find disdainful or a situation you deem unfavorable. Using such language invokes quite a reaction since the Galra are a species of utmost respect for how they present themselves.”

Pidge mulls the information over, a giddiness growing inside her. She wanted Roan around to help her with the Galra language in order to make decoding a faster process. Now, though, she’s intrigued for a whole new reason.

She could have a whole arsenal of swears words that nobody could reprimand her for using.

“What are some examples?”

Roan blinks. Surprise lines the Blades features before a faint red blush stains the soft purple of her cheeks. The Green Paladin waits with impatient excitement, realizing that if the idea of saying these words can bring this reaction out of the Blade then they must be good.

Clearing her throat, Roan steels herself, lips pulled into a thin line. “Combwockle.”

An amused smile stretches across the Paladin’s face. She laughs, the word strange on her tongue as she repeats it. “Combwockle?”

Grimacing, Roan nods. Pidge spins in her seat, facing the Blade better. “What does it mean?”

Cheeks turning a darker red, the alien looks away from the Paladin. “The meaning refers to another as being useless, a bumbling idiot that lacks any brain waves. They are so useless they cannot even clean themselves after defecation.”

“Wow,” Pidge murmurs, amused. “We would call that person a dumbass.”

Roan’s blush fades, intrigue now painting the alien’s features. “What is the meaning of that word?”

Pursing her lips, Pidge thinks of a way to explain the insult. There is no way to express it. Some things are just what they are. You grow up with knowing the context without ever really know what it means. “I guess the best way to put it is someone who is stupid or irritating. It doesn’t hold the same meaning as combwockle, but it does the trick when you’re pissed at someone.”

“So, that word ‘fuck,’ what does that mean?”

Shrugging, Pidge answers. “It means a lot of things. There's no one meaning for it since there are so many contexts it can be used in.”

A short silence settles between the two, the Green Paladin mulling over a thought.

“You said before that using curse words gets a big reaction out of Galra?” Roan nods. “So, let's say I called a soldier a combwockle, what would happen?”

“The soldier would certainly be caught off guard.” Roan’s response immediate.

A sly grin tugs at the Green Paladin’s lips. Perhaps, she can use this to her advantage. The Marmorite notices the scheming look of the Paladin, having a vague idea of what she may be thinking.

“You want to use this against the Galra?”

“If it really affects them then yeah.”

Roan’s stone mask seems to crack, showing a hint of pride. “Then perhaps I should tell you more.”

* * *

 

Metal crashes with metal, grating on the ears and echoing off the training room walls. The two fighters dance around each other in a chaotic tango. Desperation clings to the new Black paladin, unhinged and impulsive with each parry and slash of his bayard. Roan counters each strike with ease, but her own frustration with the paladin does not go unnoticed.

Keith doesn’t care. He needs this, to fight without thought, unleash all of the rage and grief swirling inside him. So, the dance continues, uncoordinated, sloppy and full of emotion. It’s beautiful in a way a black hole is. Volatile and explosive, yet breathtaking in its appearance.

Roan makes the finishing move, blocking Keith’s jab with her Luxite blade. Swiping her leg, she catches the Black paladin around the ankles and takes him down. He falls flat on his back with ragged breaths and a snarl twisting his lips. The Marmorite sheathes her blade before reaching a hand out to him. Taking it, Roan helps Keith to his feet, features stone as he tears his hand out of hers.

“Rage will get you nowhere, Black paladin.”

Keith snarls at her, a retort on his lips, but the Galra silences him with a question. “What troubles you?”

“Nothing,” he snaps quick and with venom.

Yellow eyes narrow making a shiver run down his spine. The look alone can send someone to the grave, but Keith doesn't falter under it.

“You wanted to train with me, asked that I teach you the way of the Blade of Marmora. I will not teach a student who cannot control themselves. Those who can exercise patience in the midst of chaos will return victorious.”

Keith tears his helmet off, raven black hair sticking to his reddened face. His violet eyes cut like jagged glass, voice biting with a warning. “I am in control.”

“None of your training since the disappearance of the former Black paladin has proven that.”

That makes Keith falter, some of the fight leaving him. He lost Shiro, again. His only family, once more, was taken right out of his hands. Another broken promise that leaves jagged cracks along his heart. Shiro said he’d be back, and then Kerberos supposedly crashed. Then Keith found him and the lions happened, and the fight against Zarkon came and went where he almost lost him again. Now, he’s disappeared in thin air, his same promise before Kerberos broken for the second time. He can't keep losing the people he loves.

Voltron; Lance, Hunk, Pidge, Allura, and Coran, they are all family now. He counts himself lucky to have found that after everything. Yet, nothing will change the fact that Shiro was all he had before and was the only family he knew. For someone who had nothing all his life, to lose the one person who always had his back breaks him to his core.

“Is that what troubles you? The loss of your leader or walking in his footsteps?”

Despite the cooling of his rage, it continues to simmer in his veins leaving a bite to his words. “Why do you care? Why are you even here?”

“Unlike you, Black paladin, such deflections do not phase me. Quit acting like a kit and face your reality.”

But Keith doesn't know how to handle the emotions inside of him. He lashes out, punches things or spits insults. It's easier to build his walls higher and push people away then to let them in and deal with the pain.

So instead of answering the Blade, he activates his bayard and attacks Roan.

She leans back, his swipe missing her by inches. With ease she sidesteps his next attack, kicking him in the back and sending him stumbling.

A snarl echoes off the training room walls as Keith whips around with another assault. He’s countered each time, Roan never bringing her blade into play. It stays sheathed at her back, taunting the Black paladin, showing him how weak and emotionally compromised he is.

Her hand latches around his sword wielding wrist. A quick twist draws a sharp cry from the paladin as his bayard slips from his grip. Roan takes the punch he throws at her, unflinching as it connects against her jaw. In retaliation, Keith gets shoved forward, arm yanked behind him before he meets the floor face first.

Groaning, face aching, Keith struggles against his pinned position. Roan digs her knee deeper into his back, adding pressure to his twisted limb. He slams his freed fist into the floor, gritting his teeth.

“Keep struggling and I will inflict more pain,” Roan threatens in a deep rumble.

He doesn't heed her warning, snarling in response as he tries to free himself. His actions only make his shoulder burn and breath hitch, a whine caught in his throat. The tendons protest, his joint warning that any farther and he’ll be spending time in the healing pods.

“Sometimes the greatest challenge we face is knowing when to give up.”

Breathless with pain, Keith manages a retort. “I don't believe in giving up.”

Roan presses her knee in deeper and adds pressure to his arm, earning a gasp from the Black paladin. “You are wrong, paladin. You see surrender as a weakness when it can be a strength. Knowing when to quit shows wisdom, gives you an opportunity to gather your thoughts and execute a better laid plan.”

Finally, Roan releases him, leaving Keith to slowly get to his knees where he rotates his abused shoulder. His bayard is handed to him by Roan and he takes it before getting to his feet.

“You were chosen by the Black Lion, it is imperative that you think before attacking. Four souls follow your every command, do not cast negligence on them because you are too stubborn.”

Suspense follows her words, the air electrified in the silence. Balled fists at his sides, Keith turns meeting those emotionless golden eyes.

“I didn’t want this. I’m doing the best I can, damn it!”

Eyes narrowing, lips pulled into a taut line, Roan maintains that matter of fact tone, never once betraying her emotions. She’s the epitome of a statue, cold and indifferent in every aspect.

“You may not have wanted this position, but the Black Lion chose you. The former Black paladin chose you, as you said. Your team stands behind you. Trying your best is not good enough. You owe them more than that.”

“Well, they’re wrong, okay!? Everyone’s wrong! I’m not meant to lead! I’m not Shiro or Allura. I’m not smart like Hunk and Pidge or friendly like Lance. I’m the loner! Everybody knows it.”

Ragged breaths penetrate the silence and Keith wants nothing more than to punch something. Except that piercing gaze has him rooted in place. There’s a fire in those golden depths, simmering with emotions Keith can’t decipher. It fills his stomach with dread, ready to pull him into the ground and away from the look.

A chill runs down his spine at the icy tone Roan takes on, her words standing the hair at his nape on end.

 “The Blade of Marmora was founded on secrecy and trust, which is not given freely. You and the former Black paladin won that trust, which gave us the chance to finally take down Zarkon. That trust now stands as the foundation of the Blade of Marmora and Voltron. So, tell me, Black paladin, if you say your team is wrong, that they were mistaken, does that mean you do not trust them?”

“No!” he snaps, appalled that she would insinuate such a thing. “I do trust them! They’re my friends! It’s me! I don’t trust myself to protect them! I couldn’t protect Shiro, how the hell do I protect everyone else?!”

His mouth clamps shut, jaw clenching as the reality of his words washes over him. He spilled his greatest fears out like spilt water, rushing and uncontrolled. Panic and rage, fear and grief, all of it melts together in his chest making his heart race and lungs burn.

Glare fierce, he doesn’t relent in his stare down with the Marmorite. However, confusion knits his eyebrows together as Roan claps him on the shoulder, her massive hand engulfing as she squeezes with tenderness, a contrast to her cold exterior.

“Emotions can hinder your perception of a situation. Fear can consume a soul, freeze them in their steps, halting growth. Learning to control that allows you to be free, to be the leader that Shiro saw you could be. He was wise, Black paladin. Do not fear to follow his path. He would not have set you on it if he did not see himself in you, if he did not see the same fear that all leaders carry -- the terror of losing those you are responsible for.”

Violet eyes stare at suddenly blurry cream-colored floors. Teeth sink into lips, fighting back the lump forming in his throat. Keith’s thoughts run rampant, warring with Roan’s words and what he believes.

The clawed hand stationed on his shoulder squeezes and Keith can’t hold back the tears. Several spill over, hitting the floor. He squeezes them shut, hating the shaky breath that rattles his chest. Roan is right. No matter what his mind tells him, he knows that she is right because Shiro spilled those same fears onto him after a late-night panic attack.

Keith doesn’t know how to deal with people. He’s awkward, a loner as Pidge called him. But, he cares so much for this small group of misfits. They gave him a family, something he’s spent most of his life without.

He can’t lead like Shiro because they’re not the same person. Keith acts on impulse, driven by his instincts. Sometimes those gut feelings get him into deep trouble, put him in grave danger. That’s who he is, though. So how is he supposed to lead his team, his _family_ , when he’s reckless and headstrong?  How does he lead like that and keep them all safe?

“Remember, Black paladin, your team trusts you. If you trust them then know they will help guide you in the right direction. You may be the leader of the pack, but no leader works without counsel. Seek it and be open, that is the first step to creating a strong bond.”

Her hand falls away, a bittersweet smile tugging at Keith’s lips. He doesn’t want this responsibility, but he won’t let Shiro down. He won’t let the others regret following him. If they can trust him then he can learn to trust in his abilities. It won’t be easy, but nobody ever said it was.

“Come now,” Roan urges, giving a heavy-handed pat to his back. He stumbles a bit, glaring up at the tall Galra. A hint of a smile plays on her lips, drawing a shy one out of him before she adds. “We still have much training to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pokes head out from dark corner* Hey, what's up? *Nervous smile*
> 
> Okay, so I'm back. Super sorry for the long wait. Like I said in the last note, I was out of the country for the last two weeks. I'm just getting settled back into the rhythm of life again. Which means that I'm finally getting around to updating this story! 
> 
> We finally got some Pidge! I know it's not a lot, but like I keep saying, I have this big chapter for her and Lance where they get a lot of attention. I also felt that it was important to address Keith and his doubts as being the new Black Paladin. 
> 
> Hopefully, it was satisfying enough after the long wait. Next chapter we get this big storyline, I've been promising :) 
> 
> Kudos and comments make me not hide around dark corners! 
> 
> ~Be Awesome~


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